


A First Time For Everything

by BazzyBelle



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Also their "First Time", Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternative Universe - Summer Beach Town, And yes I manage to hit all three, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward First Time, Awkward Sexual Situations, Baz visits over the summers, First "Time", First Fight, First Kiss, First Meeting, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gift Fic, I love that tag, I somehow make it tender though, I'm serious... It's all of their FIRSTS, Internalized Homophobia, Just... first everything, M/M, NSFW, Oh did I mention that this also has their first fight?, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon Snow Is Bad at Feelings, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon's a Townie, So that's a thing, Summer Town AU, TW: suicidal thoughts, The trifecta of fic writing, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Bad at Feelings, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch is an Asshole, Underage Drinking, and yes... it's awkward as heck, awkward blowjobs, awkward handjobs, awkward positioning, drunk talk, first sight, tw: internalized homophobia, tw: suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28340829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazzyBelle/pseuds/BazzyBelle
Summary: How much can you tell about a relationship by their First Moments?Can you tell how much they mean to each other? How much of an impact those moments had?Can you tell whether or the relationship will blossom into something beautiful, or whither on the vine?Baz is a lonely boy, who would like nothing less than to spend every summer vacation far from home, in a tiny town on the shore.Simon is a scrappy orphan, recently taken in by his last living relative. He just wants to adjust to his new life and make some new friends.Told through a series of their "Firsts" over the course of several years, Simon and Baz will go from enemies, to friends, to something more...
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 38
Kudos: 145
Collections: Secret Snowflake 2020





	1. First Sight - Age 11

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aristocratic_Otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aristocratic_Otter/gifts).



> Dear Aristocratic Otter, 
> 
> When I got you as my Secret Snowflake, I got super excited and giddy. You are honestly such a kind and lovely person, and I was honoured to write this story for you. 
> 
> So... One of the prompts was _"I’m a nut for AU and first time art and fic (first kiss, first anything)."_ So I thought, "Ok cool... for First EVERYTHING..."
> 
> This is that fic... it's honestly as many first time moments as I could jam pack into one story... 
> 
> This was one of the easiest fics I've written in a very long time, the words just came to me in a wild rush. I think this was a story that wanted to be written, and I'm glad I was able to write it for you, Otter!
> 
> I really hope you enjoy your gift!
> 
> Ok, this fic would not have been completed on time without the following amazing people:
> 
> [Waterwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterwings) for being a fucking anchor, grounding me when things just seemed to be "too fucking much". You are an angel and I am so blessed to have you in my life. Thank you for the beta work as well. 
> 
> [TBazzSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri) for being the writer and person I look up to in this fandom. I am so lucky to have you as my friend, beta, and honourary Godmother. 
> 
> [Giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) for being my freaking rock over the last month, and for being super excited about this fic. I love for your screaming document comments. Thank you for being an amazing friend.

**_BAZ_ **

I don’t want to be here. 

I had asked to spend the summer with Dev or Aunt Fiona, but Dev’s family is going to India, and Aunt Fiona said she had, and I quote, “better things to do over the summer than babysit an angst-ridden pre-teen”. 

Frigid old witch. Daphne probably got to her before I did. 

This whole summer holiday was Daphne’s doing. Her idea of making a tradition, now that we’re getting ready to welcome a new member into our family. 

They probably want to spend time with me so that they feel less guilty about shipping me off to boarding school once summer’s over. 

As much as it’s beneath a Pitch to be so self-pitying, I can’t really stop myself. I mean, why do they need me anyway? Father remarried, and he and Daphne are getting a brand new baby. One without constant nightmares of hospitals and wires, of mothers wasting away. 

I don’t want to be here. 

The only reason I chose not to put up too much of a fight is because Daphne asked me nicely, and you should never make a pregnant lady too upset. 

Also… I don’t really hold anything against Daphne. She’s been very kind to me, ever since Father introduced her almost two years ago. It isn’t her fault she got saddled with a defective step-son. The least I can do is make sure she doesn’t regret her decision to marry Father. 

Father does deserve to find some sort of happiness after losing Mother. And Daphne has been able to give that to him. 

“Basilton?”

I turn my head, and realize that Daphne’s decided to join me. I’m sitting on a small ledge, staring out the window of my family’s cottage in St. Ives. She picks up the book laying next to me ( _ The Graveyard Book _ by Neil Gaiman) (extremely good) (I’ll probably read it again before summer’s done) and smiles. 

“Have you already finished?”

“Yes. I really enjoyed it. Thank you.”

Daphne had bought the book for me when it first came out. I was a bit surprised when I was reading. I didn’t think Daphne was the type of person to be into the weird and the supernatural, but maybe she knew that it would be the type of book I’d be into. 

“Hmm… maybe I should start giving you more complicated books to read. Perhaps some Poe or Tolkien? I think I saw a copy of  _ The Fellowship of the Ring _ in the library. I think you would like it.”

I try to contain the smile on my face, but I seem to be failing at it, because Daphne’s giving me a funny look, like she’s succeeded in becoming my friend or something. 

“That would be nice, Mother. Thank you.”

Daphne nods and looks out the window again. It’s a bright, sunny day. We can see some children running down the street, off on adventures that only they are privy to. 

She gives me a light nudge. “It’s a lovely day outside. Perhaps you’d like to go outside for a little while?”

“I don’t know anybody… And I need to start reading Tolkien, don’t I?”

Daphne laughs. “Of course! How about you spend the rest of the afternoon outside, and you can start the book in the evening. I hear there’s a small group of boys who play football in the park…”

I turn to her and huff out a breath. I’m not really in the mood to go off meeting new people who I’ll probably never speak to again once summer’s done. It’s only the mention of football that has me excited to go exploring. It’s my favourite sport. Dev and I play on the same team back home (he’s a defender, I’m a forward). 

Daphne gently pushes some of my hair away from my face. She does try hard to get along with me, and reassure me that I’m still an important family member. I guess I’m just…  _ scared _ . I’m scared that once my new brother or sister comes along, that’ll be it. Father will have his new family, and he won’t have any need for me. 

I suppose if that happens, I could move in with Fiona (even if she refers to me as someone in need of  _ babysitting _ ). Or maybe stay in that boarding school and just never come home. 

I give Daphne a small smile and hop off the ledge. It’s difficult to keep arguing with her, and I suppose some time outside might not be the worst thing for me. 

The park isn’t that far of a walk from our property. We’re close to the seaside. This was a grandiose beach house that my mother loved as a girl. Fiona wanted nothing to do with it, so it’s in the care of my father, until I become of age. He’d spent the year making sure it was properly renovated and suitable for human occupancy. 

I’ve never been in this town before, but my reputation (or rather, the reputation of my family) is already established. Eyes follow me as I make my way down the small streets, passing quaint shops and townsfolk going about their business. To them, I’m an outsider… The only thing left of my mother’s family. I see her name on a few town landmarks (money my family put in to restore the town). This is the legacy that I’ll probably have to upkeep when I get older (this town is just one of the several places where my family holds property). 

Not sure if I’ll be needing all of these properties when I’m older, but Father keeps reminding me of how important it is to keep the Pitch legacy alive and well. 

No pressure…

The park’s not very big. There’s a small section for small children to play, as well as a rather complex-looking jungle gym. The football pitch is further back. And well… it isn’t really much to look at, if I’m being honest. 

The turf looks like it hasn’t been maintained in years, with weeds growing out everywhere. I can see from where I’m standing that there are several rough patches of dirt and rocks. How is anyone supposed to play footie properly under such conditions?

I stare at the length of the goal posts and start to wonder if this pitch follows  _ any _ of the guidelines set out by FIFA. There aren’t even any lines to indicate where anything is! How are players supposed to know where the penalty area is, or where the center circle’s supposed to be. 

I’m too busy (and offended, to be honest) lamenting the pathetic-looking pitch, that I barely register the shouting of the players. I only look up when it’s far too late, and a rogue football is already on its path towards me. 

BAFF!

It hits me square in the face and sends me tumbling onto my back. 

_ Fuck! _

I’m seeing bloody stars in my vision, and I can taste blood in my mouth. The snivelling little demon who pummeled me will be receiving words,  _ rest assured _ . 

I take a mental check of my body… Everything seems fine, except my head’s fuzzy, and I’m pretty sure my nose is broken (probably not, it’s not in pain). This is exactly why I don’t spend any time outside unless it’s with civilized people, who don’t  _ assault _ each other with  _ footballs _ !

I open my eyes and my blurred vision is momentarily obscured by several figures leaning over me, each one shouting in my face, asking me if I’m alright. 

“You good, mate!?”

“You oughta be careful! Simon’s got a hell of a kick!”

“Eyy, Simon! You didn’t kill him! Niall, you owe me 10 quid!”

“Let the kid breathe! He just got the wind knocked outta him!”

Someone offers me a hand and I gingerly take it. Several more hands join in helping me onto my feet. They’re patting me down, making sure I won’t kill them (I just might if they don’t stop), all the while still chattering non stop. 

“Last time Simon hit someone, they had to go to hospital!”

“Yeah! You’re some kind of machine!”

“You play footie?!”

“What’s your name!?”

“Aren’t you that kid who lives in the old Pitch house!?”

“Simon! Get over here!”

I brush myself off and wave off the group of minions surrounding me. I look onto the field, and one more boy is running towards me. 

This must be the  _ Simon _ who bombarded me earlier. I shake off the lingering wave of dizziness and stand as tall as I can. As he approaches me, my mind clears and I start to take him in. 

He’s not very tall or broad, or anything much. In fact, he’s kind of scrappy looking. His hair is cut very short, but I can see the beginnings of small, tight bronze curls stuck to his head. I think he’s saying something to me, but all I can focus on are his blue eyes and his stubby eyelashes. 

I need to say something. 

I should say something. 

Anything!


	2. First Words - Age 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to:
> 
> [Waterwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterwings) for being a fucking anchor, grounding me when things just seemed to be "too fucking much". You are an angel and I am so blessed to have you in my life. Thank you for the beta work as well. 
> 
> [TBazzSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri) for being the writer and person I look up to in this fandom. I am so lucky to have you as my friend, beta, and honourary Godmother. 
> 
> [Giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) for being my freaking rock over the last month, and for being super excited about this fic. I love for your screaming document comments. Thank you for being an amazing friend.

**_SIMON_ **

  
  


“You are bloody lucky you didn’t break my nose! Who the hell taught you to kick a football like a clumsy uncoordinated ox!?”

_ Shit… _

“Oi! It’s not my fault, you weren’t paying attention!”

I feel bad for him. It looked like I nailed him pretty hard. He landed on his back and everything. I’ve got a powerful kick. All the boys in town know it. It’s why they’ve chosen me to be the goaltender. They say I’ve got good reflexes, and a kick that can land halfway down the field. 

I mean… I  _ did _ accidentally cause one or two players to leave the game because my kicks were  _ too _ powerful… 

But still! You’d think if you were going to a football game, that you’d at least pay attention to what’s going on! What was he even  _ doing _ ? Plotting a corporate takeover (with the way he’s dressed --fancy polo shirt and jeans that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe-- I wouldn’t be surprised)? 

I  _ was _ coming over to apologize. I felt bad for hitting him in the head like that (it wasn’t my fault. My foot slipped). But right now, I don’t feel so bad anymore. The little dickhead has his hands on his hips and he’s giving me a sneer (like a villain from those Bond movies). Christ, he even  _ looks _ menacing. His jet black hair is slicked back, and his grey eyes are glaring at me, like he’s ready to snap my neck or something.

_ All because I accidentally hit him with a football? Has he never played sports in his life? _

Also, who talks like that? Who does he think he is, talking to me like I’m nothing but dirt on his shoes? 

I already don’t like him...

I was having a load of fun too! I’d finally gotten comfortable enough with the boys in the town to start playing football with them (I’d moved in with my uncle a few months ago). The last thing I need is some snooty arsehole coming in here and insulting me. Not when I’m coming to apologize!

“You better pray I don’t have a concussion from this!”

Bloody… is he still complaining? He looks totally fine to me! Barely a scratch on him! Even his posh clothes don’t look like they got any dirt on them. I square my shoulders out and stare him right in his deep grey eyes. If this kid thinks he can intimidate me, he’s got another thing coming. 

The boys are starting to gather in a circle. They’re hoping a fight will break out in between us. Let it happen. I don’t care! I can handle myself fine in a fight, and it looks like this prat can’t even throw a punch to save his life. 

“Hell, I didn’t hit ya  _ that _ hard! Quit your crying! Besides, you’re walking around completely fine to me. Maybe next time, you won’t be hanging about like a creep.”

He steps closer to me, nose up in the air (I want to yank it down his face). 

“I was merely observing the quality of football over here. And by the looks of your field AND the looks of  _ you _ , I’d say I was correct to not expect much.”

Oh, that’s it! This kid’s gonna get it!

I launch myself at him, but Gareth steps between us and starts to push me away. I fight back against him as the other kids start chanting for us to fight. 

“Simon! That’s the kid living in the old Pitch house!”

“So?! I don’t give a fuck where he lives!”

A few kids start shouting and hollering that I’ve thrown out a curse word (I heard many of them, growing up in the homes). The other boys aren’t really used to hearing someone curse so easily and so often. 

The posh tosser has the gall to roll his eyes at me, and pick at his shirt. 

“Oh please… I have better things to do, than tussle about with the likes of you. You want to fight, do it out there.” He nods towards the pitch. “You, and me. One on one.”

I shrug Gareth off me and stand face to face with him. He’s taller than me, but I make myself as big as I possibly can. He thinks he can come in here and push us around, acting like the King of the town, he’s wrong. 

“You’re on!”

The others clap our backs in excitement and push us towards the pitch. Granted, they were hoping for an actual fight between the two of us, but they can’t be mad about an unexpected footie match, can they?

We face each other in the middle of the pitch. I’m staring right at his face, ready to wipe that smug, arrogant grin right off of it. He stares back at me, quirking one of his eyebrows and smirking. 

Prat.

I’m so busy glaring at him, that I miss Gareth shouting the beginning of the match. Arrogant git quickly gains control of the ball and speeds down the field. 

Christ, he’s so fucking fast! I did not expect that. 

I manage to catch him and attempt to steal the ball from him, but he effortlessly dodges me and actually manages to kick the ball over my shoulder. 

I growl at him, wanting to shove him to the ground. This isn’t the time for showboating. I make another move to muscle my way around him, but he’s just as ruthless, elbowing me out of his way. 

“Oi! No roughhousing!”

“Just giving you a taste of your own medicine! You want to charge about like an angry bull, I suggest you play rugby! Might be more in line with your sort!”

I stick my leg out under him, in an attempt to steal the ball, but end up hooking his foot. We both tumble to the ground, with the other boys screaming at us to get up and keep playing. 

He growls at me and bares his teeth. I push myself off the ground and gain possession of the ball. I’m about to kick it into the goal, when I feel his shoulder colliding with mine. 

_Jesus... fuck!_ _This guy does not stop!_

He sends me crashing on to the ground again, as he regains control and lands a stunning goal. The lads start cheering and screaming in excitement ( _ traitors _ ). The Arrogant Prat walks up to me, and I think he’s about to offer to help me up, but instead pulls his hand away from me and leans over. 

“Was I supposed to think that was  _ difficult _ ? Here I was thinking you were some sort of match? I take back my rugby comment. No, I think you’d be better suited at bullfighting… As the bull.”

He laughs and runs away, before I get the chance to get up and fight him. The others are already gathering around him, asking him to join our team. They’re already making up plans for the rest of the summer. 

I grumble and stick to the back of the pack. I hear him over the sounds of the team. 

“My name is Baz… Baz Pitch”. 

My face turns bright red… He  _ is _ the kid that lives in the old Pitch house… The very same house that my uncle has been working on repairing over the last year. 

As if that wasn’t enough, he also had to deal with the constant nagging and changes from the family (having to go on site at random times) (forcing him to do the impossible) (shoving their wealth and privilege in his face).

Just my fucking luck… The last thing I need is to get Uncle Oliver in trouble with the biggest contract he’s gotten all year, all because I kicked a bloody football in some posh twit’s face. 

I fucking hate this  _ Baz Pitch _ kid. I hope he goes away for good after the summer is done. The town will be better off without the likes of him. 


	3. First Fight - Age 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Waterwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterwings) , [TBazzSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri) , and [Giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) for being amazing people and the best Betas. Love you guys! :D

**_BAZ_ **

“Baz! You ready to go yet? The game starts in an hour and we still need to do warm-ups!”

Niall’s been on my case for the last hour or so, telling me to hurry up and whining at how I was still stuck at home. 

It’s not my fault Daphne asked me to watch Mordelia, while she and Father tended to the gardens. They’d told me they weren’t going to take very long, and I don’t mind playing babysitter. 

Mordelia’s a calm child (at least, with me she is) (she’s a terror for her poor nanny), and I like playing with her, reading to her ( _ The Hobbit _ ), and watching as she chases the football I toss around for her. 

I didn’t think I would enjoy having a baby sister this much. I remember being worried that I would be replaced and forgotten. But, as it turns out, the opposite is true. As soon as she was born, Daphne started showing me how to help take care of her. We fed her, prepped her bottle, changed her nappies, and kept her entertained. Daphne wanted to make sure that Mordelia didn’t spend too much time with only her nanny. In fact, my parents gave Vera a month off at the beginning of summer. She should be joining us here in a few days. 

I juggle the cordless phone on my shoulder as Mordelia grabs my hair. I was in the middle of changing her onesie (after she spit up) (this is really the only time I wish I could leave her in the forest) when Niall had called. 

“Christ, Niall. I’m no more ready than I was 5 minutes ago!”

“What are your parents even  _ doing _ outside?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Well, you should hurry up if you wanna have time to practice before the game. Snow’s probably already there.”

I roll my eyes. Simon Snow. That blue-eyed, bronze-haired disaster of a person. He’s been on my case non-stop since we arrived. To say that we don’t get along would be the understatement of the century. 

I cannot stand to be near him… 

He’s just…  _ so much _ . He’s the type of person who takes up the whole room when he walks in. You can’t help but just stare at him and follow his movements. His presence demands it. It’s sharing a room with the sun. Big and bright and utterly destructive. 

So I do whatever I can to diminish his effect on me. I poke him and poke him until he unleashes hell.

“Snow needs the practice time more than I do. Maybe he can actually  _ prevent _ some goals this time.”

We still all play football together. I’ve been playing with them for two years now. Last year, my family put some money into fixing the pitch and in buying new equipment for the team. Snow had claimed it was a plot for me to have total control of the team. I called him a rambling idiot and kicked him in the shins. 

I play as a midfielder and Snow’s still a goaltender. I will never tell him this to his face, but he is quite good at it. He follows the ball, ready to attack if it so much as enters his bubble. He takes up space, he loves making his presence known, but Simon Snow has impeccable agility and instincts. 

“He was ready to deck you after that last game.”

We’d lost against our rival team (in a penalty shootout no less). It wasn’t really Snow’s fault we’d lost. It was a rough game and we were all worn out. I could see that he was angry with himself for letting in that winning goal, and I just could not help but bring him down even further. I was angry as well… At myself, at the outcome of the game, and there he was, bright, animated, full of  _ life _ …

Yes… I was an arsehole, I admit it. He probably should have decked me. I would have deserved it, but our coach had called him over before he got the chance. 

“Call it inspiration. Maybe if he could play instead of bumbling around, we won’t have to get into our litt- Ow! Mordelia! I swear I will abandon you to the wolves!”

She’s just grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it hard. Niall’s laughing on the other end of the line. 

“Snow’s not a bad kid. Why do you even hate him?”

Because he’s on my mind from the moment I arrive in this town to when I leave. Because for every way I die or feel dead… he feels alive. 

Because he’s a supernova, constantly pulling at me. He draws and coaxes me to come closer and closer to him. 

And I cannot help but  _ want _ to. 

“Because, frankly, he annoys me. He’s always looking at me, like he’s expecting me to do something dastardly. Because he’s waiting for a chance to get me kicked off the team.”

Not that I haven’t been doing the same to him. Coach had to pull us both aside and warn us that he would have us both sit out the next time we complained about each other.

That only made me bother Snow all the more, if only for the hope that he would be benched for the remainder of the summer…

But… to no avail. 

“Try not to antagonize him too much in this game, yeah? As funny as it is when Snow blusters, I’d like to have at least one peaceful game.”

“Can’t make any promises,” I say as Daphne finally walks into the room. I hang up with Niall and get ready to leave. 

As expected, Snow’s already on the pitch, going over the drills. Niall snickers and nudges my shoulder as we get settled on our section of the benches. As I lace up my boots, my eyes can’t help but wander to where Snow is dribbling the ball around some small cones. 

He has such amazing manipulation of the ball. For as many times I call Snow a bumbling idiot, he’s one the most controlled players on the team. For someone as strong as he is, you’d think he wouldn’t be shy to throw his weight around as often as he can… But he doesn’t (at least not with everyone) (with me, he wants nothing more than to make himself as large and loud as possible). 

I stand up and slowly make my way to the pitch. I decide to listen to Niall, just leave him be for today. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s got a point. I think one afternoon of peace is what we all need. 

As I’m doing my stretches, a football comes barreling my way and would have hit my hip, had I not dodged it. I turn to the person who kicked it over, and  _ of fucking course _ , it’s Snow. 

I grab the ball and I  _ do _ consider bringing it back to him and going about my own practice and drills. But no, he’s once again drawing me towards him. Looking at me with those blue eyes, and golden skin, and his bronze hair, ruined from the way he tugs and pulls at it. 

So no… I give him a nice long look, and drop the ball at my feet. If he wants it back, he can come get it from me. 

I continue my stretches, pretending that I don’t hear him calling to me, nor do I see him waving frantically at me. 

“Baz! Come on! Quit being a dick!”

Niall watches me and rolls his eyes. He really should have expected this. I tried to give him space and leave him be. But no space will ever be big enough for the likes of Simon Snow. 

Snow finally approaches me. As he bends down to pick up the football, I steal it away and dribble it down the pitch. 

“Baz! You are such an arsehole! Give me my ball back!”

“Should have thought of that before you sent it my way!”

Snow’s growling as he chases me across the pitch. He tries several times to steal the ball from me, but I’m too fast for him and dodge him easily. It’s far too simple to push him when he’s this way. 

“Aww… come on, Snow! Surely you can do better than that?”

He dives at me, and I spin away from him, taking off again, towards the center. I kick the ball up and start bouncing it on my knee while waiting for Snow to catch up. He’s not a midfielder, so his stamina’s not at the same level as mine is. I drop the ball on the ground and step away from it. 

“You want it, Snow? Come get it.”

Snow tries again to steal the ball away from me, but again, I manage to elude him and start dribbling the ball around him. I see, in his eyes, that he’s gearing up for a fight. 

Perfect.... Let’s see just how far I can push him this time. 

“Really, Snow… I’m not even trying that hard. Do you need a demonstration on how to properly steal the ball from the opponent? I’m sure I could give you a lesson?”

“Baz! Don’t fucking push me!”

“Oh… Beautiful choice of words, Snow. If your vocabulary is anything like your skills in football, I wouldn’t be shocked to see you as the permanent bench warmer by the time the summer’s through.”

I finally kick the ball back to him, but the damage is done. Instead of turning away from me, Snow’s lunging towards me. Eyes dead set on taking me down, and a scowl so deep, it’s like a world is opening up just for him. 

He takes me down without any problems. I punch him in the stomach and try to roll him off of me while he grunts in pain. He grabs me by the collar and slams me down on the ground. 

“Are you fucking done, yet!?” he yells at me, eyes bright, hair spilling in long curls over his headband. I swear if time would just stop for a moment, I could probably count the freckles on his cheek. I look for the mole he’s got under his left eye, trying to focus on that, instead of literally anything else. 

I squirm underneath him and give him a long sneer and a cruel smile. 

“I will never be done… Not until you learn that Coach only lets you play because he feels sorry for you. Poor little orphan boy, who lives with his deadbeat un-”

CRACK!

Snow’s fist connects with my nose in a loud, sickening crunch. I hear howling in the air, and realize that it’s me. Snow stumbles off me and I could swear I hear him cursing, but all I’m thinking about is the sharp pain in my nose. Blood is spurting out between my fingers. 

I think it’s broken. 

My fucking nose is broken!

I look up to see Snow backing away from me, hands buried deep in his hair. 

“Sndow! I will kill you! So help mbe!”

I’m about to get up and start running after him, when a pair of large rough hands stop me.

“Pitch! Snow! On the bench, NOW!” 

_ Shit… _

Niall helps me onto my feet and leads me to the sidelines. He’s muttering about how I’m an idiot, and that I should have just left Snow alone. Normally, I’d roll my eyes at him, but considering the current state of my nose, he’s every right to chastise me. 

Snow and I sit on opposite sides of the bench. As more players arrive, some point and gawk at me and start chattering over how it happened. 

Others sigh and shake their heads, knowing full well that this was a long time coming. Maybe this was the breaking point we both needed to get over our differences. 

Maybe I’ll be begging for some more next week…

“I have had it with the two of you!” Coach Mac is beginning his tirade. One of the parents works as a paramedic, and he’s trying to take a look at the damage done to my nose. He tilts my head back and places an ice pack. I can only imagine what Daphne and father will say once they see what’s happened (Fiona will be pleased as punch, though she’ll want to know every little detail). 

“Coach! I-it… I didn’t… I just… B-Baz! I-” Snow’s doing his best to explain to Coach what had happened, and for a minute, I feel really terrible about everything. He looks like he’s about to start crying, and  _ I’m _ the one currently nursing a shattered nose.

“I don’t care, Simon! You’ve both had plenty of warnings! Until you two can learn to get along, I don’t see the sense in putting you together anymore.”

_ Finally! It seems like Snow’s getting the boot…  _

“Starting today, you are  _ BOTH _ suspended for the remainder of the summer!”

“What!?” Snow and I shout (Snow mostly. I try to shout, but the pain in my nose prevents me from doing more than a nasally squawk). I try to stand up, but I’m being kept down (“Basil! Stop fidgeting! Keep your head up! Don’t remove the ice!”). 

Coach Mac stands tall and firm and glares daggers at the both of us. I try to muster up as much dignity as I can, with my ice pack and swollen face.

“Sir… with all ndue resmbect, I-”

He turns sharply to me and points at my bloody nose. 

“Not another word from you, Pitch! Your parents have already been called and are coming to take you to the A & E! As for you, Snow, your uncle is also on his way to pick you up! I suggest you BOTH take the remainder of the summer to reflect on your behaviour!”

“So, we’re just off the team, then!?” Snow squeaks. I turn my head to take a look at him and I almost shatter. He looks so small right now. I’m furious that I won’t be able to play football for the rest of the summer, but he just looks… broken. Like someone took his favourite toy and threw it off the cliffs and into the ocean. 

“You’re welcome to show up to practices, and to support the other players. But until you two can get along and work  _ as teammates _ , I’m sorry Simon, but I can’t let you both play. What kind of team has players fighting  _ amongst themselves _ ?”

Coach ends his speech and walks away, but Snow looks like he’s stopped paying attention. His gaze glosses over, and I think he may actually start crying. He turns and his eyes are boring into me. Blue irises shooting ice daggers, as he attempts to keep them from melting. It’s a whole show, his chin is jutted out, and his throat is bobbing.

“You’re a monster, Baz.”

He turns away from me, and wipes a few tears from his eyes. 

“Sndow… I”

“I don’t want to fucking hear you anymore. You got what you wanted. You can go back to doing whatever it is you do in your spare time.” He slides off the bench and turns away. 

I’m still holding the ice pack to my face when he turns to me one last time. 

“I’m not the type of person to just hate anyone… But  _ fuck _ … I think I may actually hate you. I hope you’re happy.”

As he walks away from me, my mind catches up to everything that’s just happened. What would he say if he knew the truth? That even though I got what I wanted and no longer have to see him… I’m not happy… 

Despite all this, I feel like I lost more than he did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to [Aristocratic-Otter](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/aristocratic-otter) and follow them! They are the sweetest person and deserve all the love!
> 
> If you like random reblogs and shenanigans, feel free to follow me as well [BazzyBelle](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/bazzybelle)


	4. First Understanding - Age 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catacombs scene rewrite? Make it so!
> 
> This was honestly one of my favourite chapters to write (actually this and the next three chapters just FLEW out of my brain), so I really hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks, as always to my amazing Betas and rocks, [Waterwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterwings) , [TBazzSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri) , and [Giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) . I love you guys so flipping much!

**_SIMON_ **

He’s plotting something. I just know it. 

The only problem is that I can’t seem to catch him doing anything wrong. I’ve been following him day after day after day, and so far, he hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. 

I see him sometimes, with his friends, Niall and Dev. I actually think Dev’s his cousin. He only started coming to St. Ives last year. Uncle Oliver was in charge of renovating one of the old mansions close to the beach, so I was around to help out as much as I could. I --thankfully-- did not see Baz there, though his cousin was quite the charmer. And by charmer, I mean he was a total wanker. I suppose it runs in the family. 

Baz has been quiet this summer…  _ too _ quiet. I mean he was quiet all last summer too, but this is different. I think the only reason he was so subdued last year was because the memory of the broken nose I gave him was still fresh in his mind (it still bends a little towards the bottom). This year, he’s making sure I don’t notice him at all. I’ve seen him at Ebb’s bakery during my shifts. He’ll come with his friends, or with his stepmother and siblings. He always makes it a point to ignore the fact that I’m there. 

It’s driving me fucking mad. 

What is he up to? Why did he spend the last few summers tormenting me, only to suddenly ignore me out of the blue?

I want to grab him the next time he enters the bakery and just shake him. I want to demand he tell me what he has planned for me. 

But he’d never tell me what he was plotting. Even if I caught him doing something and threatened him at swordpoint or something. He’d probably just laugh and stalk away from me. 

Penny tells me I’m being absurd. That Baz Pitch is many things (“A snob, a bully, and a complete arsehole”) but he isn’t really capable of doing anything nefarious. 

“And besides, Simon, what could he possibly be plotting?”

“Anything, Penny! An illegal drug ring. Maybe he’s selling items on the Black Market! Or, he could even have a cult following! I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Penny had smacked my arm. “Do you hear yourself? Next you’ll be telling me that Baz is a vampire wanting to rule the world through mind control!”

“If vampires were real, I’d guarantee you that Baz’d be one!”

Penny had rolled her eyes and threatened me with a folded up newspaper. She also put forth the 10% Rule. I hate the 10% Rule. The 10% Rule says that Baz or any Baz-related topic may only take up 10% of our entire conversation. I mean, how am I even supposed to figure  _ that _ out (I barely passed Maths last term)?!

Penny’s family moved here the September following the Nose Breaking Incident between me and Baz. Her parents are both professors and she’s pretty much the smartest person I know. Uncle Oliver and I had welcomed her family to St. Ives when they first moved in. Penny took a liking to me right away, and decided to be my friend. 

I’d asked her once, what she would have done if someone else had shown up instead of me. 

“Probably found them annoying. I don’t like too many people, Simon, and I don’t have the time or the patience to wait around in  _ case _ I change my mind about them. I decided that I liked you right away.”

Penny refuses to help me on my quest to find out what Baz is up to. She’s got summer work to focus on (why anyone would want to do school over the summer is beyond me), and since school starts up again in less than a month, she says she wants to be fresh and ready. 

That just means that, not only do I have to catch Baz by myself, but I only have a few more weeks to do it. Then he goes back to whichever posh, rich boy boarding school his parents ship him off to until next summer.

I don’t know how else I can continue to follow him and track him without literally building a tracking device and attaching it to his shoes. 

I  _ could _ ask Penny… She might know how to build one…

No… that might be pushing things a little too far…

(Maybe as a last ditch effort) 

(The last week he’s here) 

(And  _ only _ if all other attempts to catch him have been useless). 

I’m biking home from work, when I notice a hooded, shadowed person sulking by the side of the road. It’s after dark, and I’m wary of this person wandering about so late at night. I feel weird all over, and I don’t like it one bit. As I get a little closer to them, I realize that I know this person. The proper, elegant gait, the long legs (I swear he gets taller every summer, just to spite me), and the tufts of black hair peeping out from the hoodie.

It’s Baz.

I can hardly believe my good luck. What could he be doing out here, so late? All the shops are closed, and his friends aren’t with him. 

This is my chance to find out what he’s up to. He’s clearly sneaking around… What is he hiding? 

I keep my distance as Baz wanders down this section of town that is a little further out and more secluded. I’d been here a few times with Uncle Oliver. There was an old abandoned house here somewhere. He never told me who owned it, only that the family refused to part with it. 

If I’m right, Baz is probably heading there. Christ only knows what he’s planning on doing there, but I won’t let him out of my sight if my life depends on it. 

There’s a bit of forested area near the cottage. I park my bike against one of the trees and quietly make my way through the low-hanging branches. There’s a gravel road that leads to the entrance of the cottage, but I keep to the trees. I can see a faint light coming from inside. I send a message to Penny, telling her that I’ve finally caught Baz and to call the police. Then I sneak up to one of the windows and take a look inside. 

I’m expecting to find the house full of shady characters, or some sort of illegal activity going on. Maybe some sort of weed farm (is there even enough space for a weed farm), or at least a whiteboard with plans to wreak mayhem (Baz  _ would _ plot the destruction of everything with dry erase markers or coloured chalk). 

Instead, it’s just Baz. 

It’s Baz… and he’s standing in the middle of the room, staring at an old fireplace. He unzips his hoodie, and pulls something out. 

I’m not about to wait and see what he’s about to do. I run to the front door and charge inside. 

“Game’s up, Baz! Drop whatever it is you’ve got!”

He gives me an icy stare, before slowly pulling out… a flask? He shakes it in front of me and laughs. 

“Oh my my my… You’ve  _ caught  _ me, Snow! How fucking wonderful!” Baz is dramatically waving his arms around and his words are a little slurred…

“Are… are you  _ drunk _ ?”

He giggles. “Figure that out all on your own, did you? I suppose you’re not nearly as big an idiot as I thought!” He takes a swig from the flask. I should stop him. This isn’t  _ right,  _ seeing him like this. He’s usually so put together, like everything he does is just naturally effortless. 

But now? Now he’s a complete mess, and quickly coming apart. I think back to the message I sent to Penny. I wonder if she’s called anyone yet. 

“Baz.. give me the flask.” I reach for it, but he pulls away from me, stumbling a little. He glares, lips pulling into a bitter smile. 

“Or, what? You’re going to tattle on me? Who’s going to believe you? That little nerdy girl who follows you around all day?

“Shut up, Baz!”

I lunge at him, trying to grab at his hoodie sleeve, but he dives away from me. 

“I do wonder what she sees in you. Does she feel bad for you?”

I try again to dive for him, but he dances his way around me. The more he does that, the angrier I get. 

That’s how it is with Baz… Always dancing around any question with pretty words and eloquent diversions. He can never give you a straight answer, instead preferring to make you feel as stupid as possible. 

Only now, he’s really going for the low blow, wanting to, once again, push me far enough that I go off on him and regret it. 

Just like when we were thirteen, and I gave him that bump at the bottom of his nose. 

“I’m warning you, Baz!”

He backs up away from me, until his back is against the wall. I approach him slowly, chest out, shoulders squared. Uncle Oliver may have saved me from those homes when I was eleven, but I still know how to fight. 

I still know how to make myself look bigger than I am. 

It’s how pricks like Baz understand that no matter how much they try, they can’t keep me down for long. 

And…  _ fuck _ is Baz trying to kick me down right now. 

“Can’t say I blame her. You really are pathetic. Following me around all summer, like a lost dog. Well, here I am! Now what?”

I’ve had enough of this. I finally charge at him one more time. Baz makes no effort to move, and lets me get a good grip on him. I close my hand around his shirt collar and slam him back against the wall. My arm presses against his chest.

“ _ Enough,  _ Baz!”

I’m inches away from his face. I could punch him again --the arsehole would deserve it--, but I’m not one to knock out blokes who’ve had too many to drink. Instead, I size him up, completely in his face, daring him to challenge me. 

The bastard only smiles at me and licks his bottom lip. 

“Going to deck me again, are you? Have at it then! Go on!” He leans in closer to me, his lips barely grazing my ear. “Make me bleed, Snow...” he whispers. 

_ No _ . I won’t give him the satisfaction of winning this fight. I found him here, trespassing and drinking illegally. He’s the rat in this situation,  _ not me. _ I growl and push him off of the wall. He nearly stumbles to the floor, but manages to correct himself. He gives me an angry scowl, but I stand my ground. 

“Fuck off, Baz! You’re trespassing!”

And he’s quiet for a moment. He takes another swig of his flask and stares at the empty fireplace. Baz turns back to me, but his eyes don’t quite meet my face, choosing to take a long, deep breath.

When his eyes finally meet mine, I notice that they look different somehow. They don’t have that air of arrogance to them anymore. Instead, they look tired, and sad, with some shadows dark as bruises underneath. 

“How on Earth can I trespass in a place that belongs to me?”

He’s a fucking liar… There’s no way his family owns two houses here. Who even does that? How many bloody houses does Baz’s family own? And why would they just keep this one and not do anything with it? I march up to him and grab his arm, turning him towards me. 

I’m going to force him to look me in the eye if he’s going to try lying to me. 

“You’re fucking lying, Baz! Why are you trespassing? I should call the police on you!”

I wish my voice didn’t shake as much as it did. Maybe then, my threat would have sounded a little more genuine. Instead, Baz takes one long look at me and starts to laugh. He pulls his arm out of my grasp in a rough little jerk, and does a little theatrical spin away from me again. 

“Now,  _ why  _ would I lie about that? This was one of my mother’s properties. She bought it not too long after she married my father. I think she was planning on selling the beach house and living here. It’s rather peaceful, don’t you think?”

I freeze when he mentions his mother. I’d heard about her. Anyone who lives here knows about Natasha Pitch. She’s pretty much a legend. Penny certainly adores her. She never stops talking about her. Apparently, Baz’s mum is the reason our library got a massive update, and was added to the directory of libraries all across the UK. 

I also know that she died… rather quickly, several years ago. I hear people talk about her often, but no one really says much about her death.

It’s in this moment where I realize that Baz’s whole  _ production  _ has nothing to do with antagonizing me, or anything truly nefarious.

When I don’t answer, Baz decides to plant himself next to the fireplace. He sinks to the floor and leans his head back. For a moment, he looks so young. A part of me still wants to shake him and demand that he let me in, for once, on what’s going on in his head. I still want to know why he’s been so absent this summer. 

My phone pings with a new message (possibly from Penny) (I decide to worry about it later). 

“Baz, why are you here?”

He closes his eyes and doesn’t speak for a few minutes. I don’t know why I do this, but it seems silly to just be standing about while he’s either pissed drunk, or past the point of caring about anything. So, against my better judgement, I walk over to him and sit down. I try not to think about how fucking awkward  _ wrong _ this all feels. I pick at some dust that’s settled on my shoe, wondering what the hell I’m even doing right now. It feels a little stupid of me, to be honest. Do I honestly think Baz is just going to give up all of his deep dark secrets, just because I’m the person who caught him?

“D’you know what a glioblastoma is, Snow?”

He says it so quietly, that I almost don’t hear him. Through slurred speech, I can almost make out the complicated word, but I wouldn’t know what it was even if I did hear him properly. 

“What are you even talking about?” I think about reaching over to him and giving him a little shake. I decide against it, choosing instead to give him a small tap against the sole of his shoe. “Baz… Come on… Let’s get you home, before anyone shows up.”

He doesn’t move. He pulls his long legs up and settles them under his chin. He’s still clutching onto the flask, and I could snatch it from him, but I think I’d rather keep him calm for now. 

I’ll worry about the flask later on. 

“I’m surprised I can even say that without stammering like you… Glioblastoma. Christ, it even  _ sounds _ insidious, doesn’t it?” He giggles a little and takes another gulp. 

“Baz… Stop fucking around...” It sounds a lot softer than I had intended. I want to stay angry with him, and I want to keep fighting him, but I can’t find it in me. Looking at Baz, slumped on the floor, as tired as he is, it’s not right. 

He ignores me and continues talking. His hair has fallen over his eyes, obscuring them from view. He doesn’t make any effort to push the strands back or tidy himself up in any way. Just stays there, looking out into the room, but not anywhere in particular.

“It starts off innocent enough… a few pounding headaches, some nausea. Gets scary when the seizures start. Memory loss follows soon afterwards. If you’re lucky, you get three months.”

I can feel my stomach sink to the ground. It doesn’t take me too long to piece everything together. Baz is here, alone, in his mother’s old cottage, drinking and talking about some awful brain disease. 

His mum got very sick, very quickly, and died within the year. I remember Penny telling me that much at least. 

_ Fuck _ … This must have been how she died then. 

My arms feel really heavy all of a sudden, and I’m feeling nervous. I don’t like this. I don’t like seeing Baz like this… 

“Come on, Baz… Please get up…” 

“Not everyone is prepared to meet their death… So they choose to stay alive as long as possible. Maybe it’s some cancer-addled notion that their families want to keep them as long as they can.”

I reach out, putting my hand on his knee and giving it a little shake, hoping to snap him out of this. It strikes me suddenly that it shouldn’t be  _ me _ doing this. I shouldn’t be the one comforting him and trying to get him to a safe place! Where are his bloody friends? Where are Dev and Niall?

He shouldn’t be alone for this! Thinking about his dead mum in her old house, completely sloshed. He needs his people…    
  
I don’t know why I suddenly care so much, but I do. I know what it’s like to feel alone and lost. I know what it’s like to sit in an empty room, with nothing but your thoughts and pain. 

I know that I hate seeing him like this… I hate seeing him so alone. 

I hate that he had to watch his mum slowly die. 

I hate that he must have been so young when it happened. 

“Baz…”

“They don’t talk about the mood changes. Or how the person you love completely loses themselves.”

Baz takes one more sip from the flask, and then shakes it out. He makes a noise that sounds almost like a “harumph” and hugs his knees tighter. 

I place my hand on his, trying to coax the flask away from him. If I can get it out of his hands, that’s one step closer to getting him out of here before anyone shows up. 

“Baz. Give me the flask. There’s nothing left inside. You may as well give it to me.”

Baz grumbles some more and rolls his eyes. But, he looks up at me and finally hands it over. I tuck it into the pocket of my jacket. 

“George Harrison died from cancer…” he continues. “Did you know that, Snow? He wrote the words to ‘Here Comes The Sun’.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t…”

Baz smiles, eyes beginning to glaze over. “Hmm… It’s a lovely song…”

He closes his eyes again and leans back against the wall. I watch as his chest slowly rises and falls. I think we’ve stopped talking about his mum. 

Some soft singing soon fills the air. “Here comes the sun… and I say… it’s alright…”

Oh… I do know that song. 

I wonder if it was his mum’s favourite. It sounds nice, coming from him. Baz has a nice voice… It’s a little smooth, and deeper than his talking voice. It still bothers me that he’s all alone here. I decide to make my way next to him and just sit there, offering him quiet company. A peaceful sense of comradery.

(Am I the only person now privy to the details about how his mum died?)

We sit there, for a few minutes, Baz softly singing that old Beatles song. I have no idea how I’m going to convince him to get up and leave. 

I know I should be more worried that we’ll get into some serious trouble (for the trespassing thing) (and the Baz-being-drunk off his arse thing), and I know I should be putting more of an effort to solving at least one of these two dilemmas. But to be honest, a part of me doesn’t want to. A part of me is hoping we could stay like this, in a moment where we didn’t hate or try to deliberately hurt each other.

For a moment, we could be two people, sitting in a quiet peace. 

“Who’s there!? This is private property!”

_ Fuck. _ Baz doesn’t seem too bothered by the imminent threat, and just stays sitting on the floor. I grab his hand and pull us both on our feet. I step in front of Baz. I figure if a fight’s coming, I’m the one better suited to engage. 

The door bursts open, and in walks none other than Baz’s father, Malcolm Grimm. He stands tall and proud. (And angry… very, _ very _ angry). His white hair is slicked back, and a dark cold glare passes over me. I start to make a mental list of ways I could escape, should he decide to kill me. His gaze fixes on Baz, who’s stepped out from behind me and is doing his damn best to look as sober as he can (though I can still notice a slight sway). 

“Basilton?! What on Earth?”

Baz does his best to straighten himself out (frankly, I’m impressed that he hasn’t fallen over again, considering the empty flask). His face changes to one of complete boredom, and he crosses his arms across his chest. 

“Hello, Father... Good to see you here.”

It’s rather incredible how he’s acting as if he wasn’t just caught pissed as he is. I’m just standing there, watching both of them stare at each other. His father looks Baz up and down and shakes his head. 

“Are you drunk?” he asks him. 

And I know the look he’s giving him. It’s a look I’ve seen before on faces of care workers who saw me as a disappointment. It’s the same face of foster parents who decided that I was going back to the homes. 

It’s the same look Uncle Oliver gave me two years ago when I was kicked off the football team for breaking Baz’s nose. 

It doesn’t take very long for Baz’s indifferent mask to break. One moment, he’s staring defiantly at his father, and the next, he looks away. His eyes are hooded, and downcast, and his brows are furrowed. It’s as if he’s… ashamed?

And his father is so angry and disappointed. 

And I can’t let this go on.

“Mister Grimm! It’s my fault!”

I don’t know why I do it. Why I step in between them. Why I’ve suddenly put myself in the viper’s line of fire. 

I want to say that it’s because I’m not really afraid of him, but my foot’s been tapping non stop since he got here, and my cuticles seem suddenly extremely appetizing. 

I don’t think I want Baz to feel any of this. Especially not after what he’s told me about his mum. He’s already lost one parent in a slow and painful way; it makes sense that Baz would want to keep things calm between himself and his father. 

I think, maybe, I’m hoping that we can stop going after each other’s throats after tonight. 

Maybe I’m hoping he’ll accept my olive branch.

Speaking of Baz, he’s latched onto my arm in an iron grip. He’s tugging at me, trying to pull me away from his father. It would be somewhat sweet, if he didn’t look like he’s been trying to set me on fire with his mind.

(Ok… scratch that out about the olive branch).

“Snow…”

I pull my arm free from his grasp. I turn to look at his father again. It’s like I’m looking at Baz in roughly 30 years. He might very well decide to toss me into the ocean once this is all done. 

I don’t care. I’ve lived a good life. Besides, Penny knows where I am. She’ll avenge my death, if need be. 

“I wanted a place to be alone, and I found this cottage…”

Baz is still staring at me, possibly trying to get me to shut up. I give him a small smile. 

“I had a rough day and had a few too many. Baz caught me.”

I pull out Baz’s flask, and make a big show of trying to drink any of the drops of alcohol still inside. I fake a small giggle and pretend to have difficulty stuffing the flask back into my pocket. 

Mr. Grimm isn’t amused at all. In fact, I think he’s turned a rather terrifying shade of purple. His hands are clenched by his side, and I swear there’s a vein or two popping up on the side of his face. 

_ Well Penny, I’m sorry for getting myself killed by a mobster. And all to defend a complete arsehole too! _

“That’s enough! Basilton, we’re going home.” His glare turns to Baz, and I could swear that he shrinks a few sizes as he numbly walks up to his father. He turns his head to me, and his grey eyes get a little bit of sparkle back in them.

Once Baz reaches his father’s side, Mr. Grimm directs his anger back at me. “As for you, Mister Snow, I will make sure your uncle hears about your apparent disrespect towards my late wife’s memory.” 

At the mention of Uncle Oliver, I suddenly feel fucking dizzy. My hands are clammy, and my breath is caught in my throat. 

All this excitement about running after Baz and finally catching him, and not once did I stop to think about what would happen if word got back to Uncle Oliver. 

Uncle Oliver, who took me in when no one else would and gave me a home, and a family. Uncle Oliver who offered to teach me how to do basic home repair and renovation, as a way for me to find a trade. 

Uncle Oliver who never asked for anything in return, other than respect for his job and his clients. 

Now… here I am, pretending to be pissed drunk in front of his most important client.  _ In his house _ . 

Fuck… what if this affects his business? What if he loses the trust of his clients?

“Father… it’s not his fault!”

Something snaps me out of my spiral momentarily. I think that was Baz, stepping in front of me. I don’t catch what exactly he’s saying, but it isn’t convincing his father to lay off. With each passing second, his face grows redder and redder (as does my vision).

“I beg to differ! Oliver Salisbury is responsible for the actions of his nephew! He is also responsible for the renovations being done here! The fact that  _ Mr. Snow  _ here was found drinking on the premises, indicates a breach in trust.” Mr. Grimm shifts his cold dark eyes down towards me. “I suggest you leave  _ immediately _ before I call the police!”

I don’t think anymore. I just turn and I run. I don’t look back at Baz and his father. I don’t look back at the house. I don’t think to grab my bike in my rush to get out of there. 

Uncle Oliver is going to lose everything.

_ Fuck… shit… FUCK! _

I run and I run and I run. 

The streets all blend together, as do the shops and the houses and the trees in the distance. I can’t think. I just need to get home. 

My phone rings, I ignore it. 

I don’t realize that I’ve arrived home. I burst inside. I think Uncle Oliver says something to me, but I can’t even look at him right now. I run into my room, throw myself onto my bed, and try to calm my nerves. 

Uncle Oliver comes in at one point to ask if I’m alright, and I think I mumble a yes and that I need sleep. 

I can’t tell him… not yet. 

He leaves some water for me on my nightstand and exits quietly.

I close my eyes and silently hope that he won’t lose everything because of me. I promise to never follow Baz again, or even think about Baz. That’s it… I’m done.

My mind feels fuzzy and disoriented as I wake up. I didn’t even realize that I had fallen asleep. I don’t know how long I’ve been trying to doze off, but I hear something hitting my bedroom window. I groan and slip out of my bed. It’s probably some dumb kids faffing about. 

I open my window and look outside. Sure enough, with my bike and an almost shy expression on his face, there stands Baz. 

(I’m not entirely familiar with the bashful look on his face.)

(Then again, tonight has been properly educational in the ways of Baz Pitch if I do say so myself)

“Baz? How’d you find my house? And my room?”

He… shrugs? Since when does Baz Pitch shrug? “I asked Niall… who asked Bunce…”

I sigh and roll my eyes. Why do all of our friends have each other’s numbers? Are they all secret friends, laughing at the way Baz and I consistently circle each other? Why the hell is Penny even talking to Niall and Dev? I thought she was smarter than that…

I open my window further and carefully climb out onto the ledge. There’s a tree close to the ledge, that I manage to jump onto. I swing from one of the lower hanging branches before landing on the ground. I’ve done this plenty of times before. It looks more dangerous than it is. Doesn’t stop Baz from running to help me up. I slowly nudge him away and stand on my own. 

“What do you want, Baz?”

He looks down and plays with the string of his hoodie. He clears his throat far too many times before taking a deep breath and straightening himself up. 

“Snow… I told my father everything, as soon as you ran off. How it was me who was drinking in my mother’s old cottage.”

I drop my arms to my sides. 

He didn’t… 

I take a look at him again. His hair looks a little disheveled, his clothes are messy, and his eyes are sunken in. He looks in need of a good long nap. Maybe spend a week not thinking about his dead mum or his mobster father.

“You- wha- shit… I… Baz… You didn’t hav-”

“I did.  _ You  _ didn’t have to lie to my father for me.. I was foolish tonight, and it nearly cost your uncle his livelihood. So, this is me setting differences aside.”

We stand there in an awkward silence. What do I even say to him? He didn’t have to confess the truth… He was in the clear. 

Baz… he erased all of that. He decided to take whatever crap his father would come up with. 

He completely fucked his own perfect image…

And all for me…

He accepted my olive branch… 

Baz extends a hand my way.

“Truce?”

My hand moves on it’s own (I am far too shocked still to tell my body how to act).

“Yeah… Ok…”

His hand feels cold in mine… and soft. I think there are a few callouses on the fingertips. I wonder why his fingers are calloused like that? I know that musicians often have calloused fingers (Uncle Oliver player guitar, and his fingers are pretty calloused). I’ve seen Baz playing violin a few times in the park. Maybe that’s why?

He pulls his hand away from mine before I can think any more about his fingers. He’s smiling, and it isn’t mocking or cruel… but… fond? I’ve seen him smiling that way at his siblings or towards his stepmother.

It’s fucking weird.

“Right. I should get going, then. I’m pretty much grounded for the rest of summer.”

I rub the back of my neck. The tops of my ears feel a little warm, but I chalk that up to the weather and the unexpected visit. 

“Right… yeah… Uh… Bye Baz. Th-thanks for bringing back my bike.”

He nods at me. “It was no trouble. Goodbye, Snow.”

I watch as he turns and walks away. I stay standing there far long after he’s gone, thinking about everything that’s just happened. 

I decide that any lingering thoughts can be dealt with tomorrow. So, I make my way back up to my room, and climb back into bed. 

I try not to think about Baz’s sparkling grey eyes and his fond smile as sleep takes over. 


	5. First Kiss - Age 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... there's a scene in this chapter that was inspired by some amazing art. I'm gonna link to it in the end notes, to prevent any spoilers. Please check it out and give the artist some love because they are amazing!
> 
> Also, I'm gonna add a trigger warning for some suicide ideation as well as some internalized homophobia.
> 
> More thanks to my amazing Betas, [Waterwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterwings) , [TBazzSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri) , and [Giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) . I love you guys so flipping much!

**_BAZ_ **

Another dinner… another round of disappointing glances from my father, and Daphne, and Mr. and Mrs. something or other. I can’t be bothered to remember their names anymore. They’re all blending together these days. 

It’s been non-stop since the beginning of summer… 

Actually…no… It started during the Winter Holidays, when my father had the brilliant idea to vacation with one of his friends from the club. I think he hoped that I would magically fall in love with the daughter;it was rather funny, when we actually became friends instead. Agatha could tell right away I was not interested in her at all (she was, somehow, even less interested in me). We became quite close by the end of the holidays, going so far as to exchange numbers and promise to meet up during a weekend. 

She was the first person I felt comfortable admitting my queerness to. Wellbelove’s been nothing but kind towards me, allowing me to use her as an excuse to get out of dinner parties with my parents, or acting as my “plus 1” for the odd engagement over the course of the year. 

I wondered if they would stop if I simply told them I was not interested in dating any woman, no matter who she was or who her parents were (besides, the very notion of dating based on class is not something I see myself doing, thank you very much). 

I’m almost 18. Soon, I’ll be leaving my parents’ house to go to university. I’ve got the rest of my life to worry about dating. Father’s gone on and on about how important it is to make a match suitable to carry on the Pitch name and legacy.

“Your mother’s legacy will soon be yours, Basilton. You need to make her name proud.”

_ Right… as the only heir… QUEER heir… Some legacy I’ll uphold… _

I’m in my room, my father having just finished lambasting me over my behaviour tonight… Behaviour in the sense that I barely uttered two words to the girl seated next to me, and when our dinner guests addressed me, I answered in short, curt sentences. 

I hate this… I loathe this so bloody much! Everyday I wake up and all I want to do is scream and claw my way out of this. I feel trapped, stuck… In a place with no air and no light, with the walls closing in on me, faster and faster. 

I needed to do better, Father said. 

I needed to remind everyone that I was Natasha Pitch’s son. 

I needed to do her memory proud. 

I needed to honour her by continuing her legacy. 

What about what  _ I need and what I want? _

Visions of blue eyes and bronze curls dance in my head. Of tawny skin and constellations of freckles and moles. Of fire, smoke, and unchallenged strength. Visions of the one person I keep coming back to year after year. The one person who gave me a raison d’etre for coming back to this town. 

And throughout all of this, I’ve been replaying his image in my mind. Holding onto that and the things I know to be true. 

The fact that Simon Snow is the strongest person I know, with an unshakable moral compass.

That we tried to hurt each other time and time again, but we never really could. 

That Simon Snow is alive… 

And I’m hopelessly in love with him. 

I think it all clicked together two summers ago, when he just refused to leave me alone. To not only have a gay awakening, but also deal with the person of your utmost affections tailgating you. Thank Christ I had a moment’s peace at home to try and wank away my feelings (emphasis on  _ try _ … I think I only ended up wanting him all the more…). 

Then he caught me--on the anniversary of my mother’s death no less--drunk, broken, a shell of the person I was… I had wanted a night to just forget about the failure of a son I was, and to forget the many ways I’d disappointed her. 

_ The Heir of Pitch getting drunk in the abandoned cottage that his mother loved so much.  _

_ The Heir of Pitch sneaking into secret broom closets with the captain of the rival football team. _

_ The Heir of Pitch drinking alone in his dorm room the night before an exam, because his latest fling couldn’t deal with the “dirty little secret.” _

_ The Heir of Pitch failing that exam because he was so hungover, he couldn’t keep his eyes focused on the page for too long.  _

_ The Heir of Pitch refusing to join his father at the club, and refusing to make appearances as the “son of Natasha Pitch”.  _

_ The Heir of Pitch getting drunk with a school friend in the forest behind his school…  _

_ The Heir of Pitch proving time and time again that he’ll never be able to fill the impossibly large shoes of his mother.  _

Unfortunately, once Simon Snow decides he wants something, not even a brick wall can stop him. He’s an unstoppable force, and that night he was determined to ruin me. 

What he did instead, was take the fall for me… in front of my father. If I wasn’t so sure that he’d beat me to a bloody pulp (well and if my father weren’t there), I’d have kissed him. Watching him, with his tawny skin shining in the moonlight, arms crossed over his chest, and standing defiantly in front of my father…all for me…

I loved him all the more. 

We’d become friends after that, our two little friend groups spending time in cafes and beaches (his best friend, Bunce, was a formidable debate opponent).

All the while, I was hiding the fact that I loved him… deeply, endlessly, and (of course), hopelessly.

What else do you call being in love with not only one of your close friends, but someone who was as straight as straight could be. I’d seen the way he’d flirt, and the way he would talk about the girls he’d been attracted to. 

The big blow came at the beginning of the summer, when I found out that he was in a relationship. I hadn’t spoken to him about it, obviously. In fact, I hadn’t spoken to him at all this summer. It was the only mature thing to do. Avoid the problem and it will go away. Obviously. He’d messaged me a few times, asking to meet up after his shift at the FILL IN. 

I’d brush him off, each and every time, telling him I was too busy (which, technically, wasn’t a complete lie). 

(I could have tried harder to see him… but I didn’t bother).

Because I’m a coward and the thought of seeing his smile as he spoke of the feelings he’d never feel for me, would be more painful than one-hundred consecutive punches to the face. Of a million broken noses. Of the visage of my father’s failure. 

His last message was from a few days ago. Maybe, I don’t respond at all, he’ll take the hint. Maybe Snow will finally just give in.

It’s for the best… really. 

His uncle officially adopted him last year, and has started training him in the ways of construction work. He deserves his golden happy ending, after a lifetime of loneliness and uncertainty. 

One that doesn’t involve me. 

As I stare at my bedroom ceiling, I contemplate forcing myself to go along with Father’s plans for me. I mean, maybe it wouldn’t be too terrible to hitch myself to someone who has as little interest in me as I do in them. We could figure out a  _ medical _ way to pop out a few children, to shut my father up about my mother’s Pitch legacy. 

Maybe I could give her money and freedom, so long as I could fill the hole in my heart by having ill-advised rendez-vous with a series of men who all resemble Simon fucking Snow. 

I think I’d rather lock myself in a tower somewhere and read for the rest of my life. Forty or fifty years of loneliness is frankly preferable to a long unhappy marriage. 

_ Christ… Listen to me… I need to get out of here… _

My bedroom has two large french doors that open onto a balcony overlooking the sandy beach and ocean. I swing them open and step outside. Without thinking, I leap over the balcony, landing on the sandy ground. 

And I start to run. 

I don’t know where exactly I’m running to, or what my purpose is, all I know is that I need to get as far away from my house as I possibly can. 

The waves on the beach are crashing against the shore. The stars and the moon create beautiful reflections in the inky black water (I think if I cared enough to slow down, I may be able to take more notice). 

As I run, it hits me…  _ I’m not free… not really. _

_ No matter how far I run, how much I fight, in the end I will do what’s right.  _

In the end, I’ll do what is expected of me… and I’ll die a little more inside everyday. 

Unless…

I stop running and I slowly kneel into the sand. 

And I stare out into the void…the waves ebbing and crashing, ebbing and crashing…beckoning me to come closer to feel their limitless embrace. The waves hold my answer, my peace, my salvation. 

Do I do it? Do I take that step and make my own decision for once in my life. With fistfulls of sand, I slowly stand up-

“BAZ!”

I look up to the stars and the sky and I have to laugh out loud… 

_ Of course… he’s fucking found me… he always finds me _ .

Simon’s running towards me, all fight and fury, with his curls bouncing on the top of his head. Fuck… but he does look lovely, with the moonlight hitting all his bumps and curves. He’s an ethereal beauty. 

I think I’m smiling as I stare at him… Well… If I am to go, at least I get to have one more conversation with him. One more time to look into his blue eyes, to hope they sparkle for me. 

One more time to feel his touch…to receive the limitless heat that flows within him. Seems appropriate that the last time I see him is amongst endless stars in the sky. 

“You arsehole! Where the hell have you been all summer!?” 

The light from the moon is hitting his eyes just right. I’ll often comment and say that Simon’s eyes are an ordinary blue, almost boring, but that can’t be further from the truth. Here, in the dark, they twinkle. I swear it’s like looking into the ocean where the stars reflect and dance. Simon’s eyes, they’re dancing too. 

Right now, there’s a fury within them…one that is well deserved and was a long time coming. 

I sink back into the sand and stretch my legs out in front of me. My elbows provide the support I need as I just stare at the sky again. 

“Hey! I’m talking to you! The least you can do is answer me!” He nudges my hip with the toe of his shoe and I glare up at him. He’s nervous…Snow being nervous is a whole show. His chin sticks out, and his Adam’s Apple will bob up and down as he swallows. It’s really mesmerizing to watch. 

“Been busy, Snow…”

And he’s quiet at that. And I think he may leave me be (a relief, really) (no, not really) (I don’t want him to leave). 

“You…you were  _ busy _ !? Are you shitting me, Baz?”

“Yes, Snow… I was  _ busy _ . Too difficult to get through that thick bull-headed skull of yours, or do I have to spell it out for you? Maybe use smaller words…”

Before I can continue, his entire mass slams into me and pushes me onto the sand. Simon’s got me completely pinned down, and while I am not complaining about that at all, his face only grows angrier and more frustrated. 

“Baz! Stop being such a fucking arsehole! Why were you avoiding me?!” 

I try to squirm away from his grasp, but Snow’s always been much stronger than me, so he keeps me in place. He continues to stare down at me, and I can’t look at him… I can’t be here under his grasp. It hurts too much. The last pieces of my heart are fading away as his eyes bore into mine. 

_ I’m avoiding you… because you bring the stars in my life. _

I turn my head, focusing on the patterns of footsteps in the sand. Hiding my shame, my pain, my capacity to be honest with him and with myself. 

“I should have called…”

Pitches don’t apologize, especially not to golden-skinned, kind-hearted, saddened blue eyes…

But I am a constant disappointment to myself, especially where Simon Snow is concerned, so I look up at him and talk to him, and his eyes, and his freckles and plethora of moles.

I talk to  _ Simon _ .

“I… should have called…”

Snow’s look softens a little. He relaxes his hold on my wrists (to my disappointment), and climbs off of me. Instead of getting up, Snow chooses to lie down next to me, so that our shoulders are touching. 

And it’s like he’s setting a fire from within. I can feel the sparks pinching me from the tips of my toes to the edges of my ears. 

“Yeah…you should have called… I was driving Penny crazy, wondering where you were, and what you were doing.”

Oh God. Not this again. I thought we were over the suspicions and the second guesses. I suppose you can’t really have it all with Snow. Once he decides something about you, he never lets it go.

“I wasn’t plotting anything…” I don’t mean for it to sound as sad and broken as I do, and Snow definitely wasn’t expecting it, because he turns to me and he’s giving me this look, like I’m a lost puppy or something. 

He’s looking at me, like he wants to reach in and pull the worry from me.

_ Christ… he pities me, doesn’t he... _

“I didn’t think you were plotting, Baz… I… just…”

He reaches over and takes a lock of my hair in his hand and twirls it between his fingers. He touches it like he’s handling spun sugar; delicate, light, and as if it's the thing he’s wanted his whole life…

“I missed you, Baz...”

His eyes sparkle again… and I can’t…. I can’t anymore. 

Because he’s here and he missed me, and this isn’t the future that’s in store for me. I do not get to have Simon Snow. Not when everything else is being weighed down on my shoulders. 

Not when my father expects me to live a life that is slowly killing me.

That is not the future I deserve.

That is not the future  _ he _ deserves. 

He’s got his whole golden future all set up and perfect.

And for me?

I hear the crashing of the waves again… Calling me… enticing me… Wanting to welcome me home.

_ I… I’m sorry… _

It has to be this way… 

I don’t know what makes me get up from my spot, but I do…

And I walk…

**_SIMON_ **

I always find him

No matter if it’s by accident, or if I’m actually stalking him.

But I always end up finding him.

Even if he doesn’t want me to, and tonight, I really didn’t think he wanted me to find him. 

I’d told myself that I was going to force him to talk to me tonight, whether he liked it or not. Penny was fed up with me always asking her if she’d found out anything new from her parents. 

Dev and Niall were beyond fed up with my questions (well, Dev was. Niall was just as worried about Baz as I was). Philippa, the girl I’d been seeing, broke up with me because I wouldn’t let it go.

I had a feeling something wasn’t right, but everyone just kept telling me that he was probably just really busy. The only person who believed me was Ebb.

“You do know him best, Simon… And if you say there’s something wrong… Well who am I to deny that? Poor boy… his father does expect the world from him, considering who his mother was.”

So I came here, to the beach near his house to see if he’d speak to me once I’d cornered him at home. 

It’d become our  _ thing _ … Seeing each other at our windows, ever since he came to mine two years ago. Through our window conversations we learned about each other's highs and lows. We sat under balconies, watching the stars in the sky as we spoke about future dreams and past mistakes. 

Summers were something I looked forward to, because it meant Baz would come back. 

He was my constant. No matter how awful the year was, no matter how many punches were thrown my way…Baz would always come back.

I found him. I always find him. 

He was on the beach, and he looked lost. Like he wasn’t there voluntarily, as if something had drawn him to that spot and was keeping him held against his will. 

I ran to him… I ran to him and I demanded to know why he wasn’t around. I wanted him to see me and know how much it hurt not knowing where he was or what he was doing. It hurt to know that he was avoiding me. 

And he looked at me, and I could see just how sad he was. He was defeated, resigned…

And haunted…

And as I lay there next to him, and watched the moonlight bounce off the shadows of his sharp edges, and how the stars pierced the clouds of his stormy eyes, I felt my heart pick up, and my hand become clammy. 

My face felt flushed, and my toes jittered. 

And all I wanted to do was take him in my arms and pull the pain away from him. I wanted to be the person who could do that for him. 

I reached over and twirled a lock of his raven hair. It was so soft and so delicate, and I wanted to touch more of it. 

I think… I wanted more…

I  _ missed _ him and I wanted more. 

“I… I missed you, Baz…”

He closed his eyes before I could say anything more, but I saw the glassy film forming beneath. He whispered something (an apology… a revelation… a resignation) and stood up. 

I see him now, on his feet, slightly swaying, and I want to pull him down again and tell him that we can stay here in the sand, and that nothing can hurt him or touch him when he’s here with me. 

He walks…and it isn’t him. I know it isn’t him. Something is pushing him to walk. 

“Baz…?”

He doesn’t look back…

  
  
  


**_BAZ_ **

If I look back, it’ll be over for me. 

It’ll be over for him…

I have to do this… 

  
  


**_SIMON_ **

“Baz… Baz! Stop dicking around!”

He walks into the water, and he doesn’t stop. 

I run to catch up to him, but it’s so fucking dark that I miss a root sticking out. 

He doesn’t stop. 

He keeps walking. 

  
  


**_BAZ_ **

The shallow doesn’t last very long. A few more steps and the current can carry me further. 

I hear Simon calling to me.

The water’s louder.

And cold.

I always was naturally cold…seems fitting.

I think Simon’s tripped on something.

Good.

He doesn’t need to see this. 

  
  


**_SIMON_ **

I rush into the water, just as I see him step over the deep end. 

“Fuck! Baz! Stop!”

He lets the water over take him. 

But I’m strong. 

I’m strong, and I’m bullheaded, and he needs to be on the shore. 

Where it’s safe, and warm.

(And with me.) 

(I need him here,  _ with me _ .)

_ (Baz… Stay with me… Please…) _

He finally turns to me. 

He smiles. 

And lets go.

**_BAZ_ **

The water doesn’t feel cold for very long. In fact, it feels nice. 

I don’t believe in any particular religion, but there is something to be said about the notion of letting the water purify you…

Letting it absolve you of your wrongdoings and your misdeeds.

Of your shortcomings and failures. 

I close my eyes and let the waves pull me further and further down. 

  
  


**_SIMON_ **

Fuck!

It’s so hard to see.

And it’s cold. 

I just dive. 

I don’t think. 

I just go. 

Deeper and deeper. 

Until I feel his hand. 

And I don’t. Let. Go. 

  
  


**_BAZ_ **

He finds me.

Simon always finds me. 

  
  


**_SIMON_ **

I find him. 

I’ve got him. 

I bring him to the surface. 

He gasps for breath. 

I think I’m yelling. 

Baz tries to squirm in my grasp, but I drag him back to the shallow. 

That’s when he starts to fight me.

  
  


**_BAZ_ **

He pulled me out. He dove in after me and dragged me out of the water. 

He’s a bloody idiot is what he is! He could have gotten himself killed!

And for what? To save me?

It’s not worth it. 

He’s still here, with his arms wrapped in an iron grip around my waist and refusing to let go, and dragging us to a point where I can touch the shallow once more. 

And I’m pushing and struggling and trying to wrench my way out of his grasp, but he won’t let up. 

He won’t let me go. 

I want him to let me go… 

But Simon is strong. He’s always been so much stronger than me. So no matter how hard I struggle, he holds fast. 

“Snow…please…leave me!”

“Fuck off, Baz! I’m not leaving you! You don’t get to give up today!”

His hands have moved to grip the sides of my face. He’s forcing me to look at him, and the water droplets falling from his curls look like fairy lights under the moon. 

“This is what I deserve,” I whisper. 

“Well, it’s not what I deserve!”

His grip tightens around me, challenging me to prove him wrong. I put my hands on his shoulders and push him away. 

“Then go…please…just go…”

I think if I give him one good push and a kick to his stomach, he’ll let go and I’ll have a good enough shot of getting far enough away from him where he won’t find me. 

But, I’m staring at him, with his blue-eyes, and tawny-skin… Mouth hanging open ( _ Mouthbreather _ ) 

And I want to kiss him. 

Because he’s the only person I’ve ever wanted to kiss, and even if I’ve kissed boys before, it never meant anything. 

I just want to kiss him…

Then I can let the water take me again. 

He’s got his hands in my hair, and I lick my lips. 

“Baz…” He says. 

And he takes me in. 

  
  


**_SIMON_ **

I think this is the only way I can keep him from fighting me. Before I can give him another chance to push me away, I pull him closer, my lips catching his. 

They feel soft, and cold, and a little rough from the way he chews at them when he’s nervous. 

For a moment, I worry that this isn’t what Baz wants, but he pushes against me, wanting more. 

I’m ready to give it…I know that I’ll give it all to him. 

  
  


**_BAZ_ **

Is this a dream?

Did I actually drown?

Or is Simon holding me in his arms, keeping me from doing anything drastic. He’s doing this thing where he tilts his head as he kisses me. I try to stifle the moan that comes out of my mouth, but I feel him smile beneath my lips. 

I reach my hands to the back of his head and run my fingers through his curls. 

Christ… I’ve wanted this for so long, and it feels so good in my hands. 

My body shivers against the cold of the water. Simon holds me closer and starts to take us back to the shore. A wave crashes against us, and I instinctively hitch my legs around his waist. 

“You’re not going anywhere… you hear me?” he growls, staring into my eyes, and tightening his hold on me. 

He’s got one hand on the small of my back, and another on the side of my head. And even like this, wet, and shaggy, and bordering on feral, he’s beautiful. 

Christ…he’s so fucking beautiful. 

I trace my fingers over his lips and slowly nod. 

  
  
  


**_SIMON_ **

I’ve got him. He’s not going anywhere. 

He’s so fucking cold that he’s shivering. I carry him back to the shore as fast as I can. The quicker he’s out of the water, the easier it’ll be to warm him up again. 

Once I’ve gotten us both onto solid ground, I do the one thing that I’ve been wanting to do for a lot longer than I thought. 

I lay him on the sandy ground, and I kiss him again. 

There’s still a lot to talk about (like the near-drowning) (and the kissing) (and the  _ wanting to kiss). _ But right now, just having Baz in my arms like this feels so fucking amazing. He’s still so cold, but when I touch him, he heats up under my hands. 

Kissing him…it makes sense to me. Kissing Baz connects an electrical circuit that I didn’t know needed completion.

I run my fingers through his hair, and give a small tug. I smile as he moans against my mouth. 

My other hand’s keeping him pressed against me. Reminding him that I’m here, and he’s with me, and I won’t let anything come near him or hurt him. Not as long as I’m around to keep him tethered. 

I’ll ground him, hold him, balance him out. 

He’s safe, he’s with me. 

We can figure the rest out later.

**_BAZ_ **

Once we finally reach the shore, he lays me gently down on the sand, and runs his fingers through my hair. It’s so gentle, and something I would never expect from Simon. He’s all muscle and loud noises, but right now, he’s holding me like a pair of butterfly wings. 

Then he kisses me again. 

I know this is a good kiss. Snow’s done this before, and so have I. He opens up and lets my tongue explore inside. As I run it over the roof of his mouth, he grunts and almost loses his grip on me. I pull away from him and give him a cocky grin. 

“Weren’t expecting that, were you?”

He blushes, it’s so fucking adorable. I don’t let him answer, going for another kiss. This time I take his bottom lip between my teeth and nibble it a little. 

Then he holds himself up on all fours, looking down at me. He gives me a cheeky grin, expecting me to reach up for him. 

I do. 

I’ll do anything for him. 

I’m in love with him. 

And maybe I have a lot that I want to fight for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Baz in the water" scene was inspired by [THIS AMAZING FANART](https://nick-eyre.tumblr.com/post/636433387559747584/late-night-swim) by the amazing [Nick-Eyre](https://nick-eyre.tumblr.com/) . Please give them likes and reblogs and follow them on tumblr because they are amazing!


	6. First "Time" - Age 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand here is where I change the rating from Mature to Explicit...
> 
> There will be another chapter going up later today, as I have to have this fully posted by tomorrow, and I have two more chapters to post! (So be giddy over the double post today).
> 
> Thanks to my amazing Betas, [Waterwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterwings) , [TBazzSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri) , and [Giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) .
> 
> Special thanks goes out to [Xivz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xivz) for reading over this chapter and assuring me that it had a good amount of Sweet, Sexy, and Awkward. 
> 
> I love you guys so flipping much!

**_BAZ_ **

I’m going home at the end of the month. 

I’m moving into a spare flat in my Aunt’s building about a week later.

I’m starting University in London a week after that. 

I should be excited. I’m starting a new life, away from my parents, on my own, with my own rules. 

But all I feel is heartbreak. 

And the reason why is laying down next to me on a beach blanket. 

It’s become a tradition for us to come to the beach and just spend a few hours, watching the waves, and holding hands. Sometimes we’ll kiss, sometimes we’ll tumble around in the sand. Other times, we’ll chase each other into the water, where we’ll float about in each other's arms and kiss... and kiss... and kiss. 

But I’m leaving him, and I don’t think I’ll be coming back here. I need to break out on my own, figure out who I am apart from my family’s name and my mother’s legacy. 

I had spent the last year establishing my own identity and finding a way to be comfortable with the person I am (all through therapy). After nearly making the biggest mistake of my life (and gaining the most important person in my life), I realized I wasn’t ready to give up everything in order to make my father happy. With Simon’s help (as well as Bunce, Dev, and Niall) (none of them could leave well enough alone), I came out to my father and to Daphne. Daphne’s response involved taking me in her arms and telling me how much she loved me and how proud she was of me (really should not have expected anything less from her).

My father… My father was another story. 

He didn’t say anything to me for almost a month. I remember spending a lot of time at Simon’s house, nervously twirling my hair, until he threatened to tie my hands behind my back. His uncle didn’t mind seeing me there, nor was he surprised to see Simon holding my hand (turns out Simon’s uncle had been seeing Coach Mac). 

We spent those days getting comfortable with each other, now that we found we liked kissing each other. 

Eventually my father came around (well, as much as one would expect from a conservative traditionalist farmer). He apologized for his reaction and his behaviour. He was honest in that he would need time to get used to the idea, but he assured me that did still love me. It wasn’t perfect, but it did mean he would stop pressuring me to make some sort of political match. 

Meanwhile I got to spend the year travelling between Hampshire and St. Ives over the weekends I was able to spare (Simon would get cross over me driving the long distances, but it was worth it… to be with him). We had to take a break during finals, and I had to wait to see if I had gotten accepted into the London School of Economics. 

Once the excitement of my being accepted and graduating at the top of my class has passed, I realized that I had to do the one thing I didn't think I’d ever do. 

Leaving this town, and Simon, behind.

It would be unfair of me to take him away from this place and from the people who care about him. His uncle has been spending so much time teaching him to take over his business for him. Simon’s smart too, and he’ll do amazing things in this town. It wouldn’t be right for me to take him all for myself (even if the thought of leaving him behind is enough to rip my heart out and leave it breakable in his hands). 

He’s asleep, head buried in the blanket, and with a small sprinkling of sand on his cheeks. The grains mix in with his moles and his freckles. His hair is spilling over beautifully (he let it grow out last year) (“I know you love my curls, Baz!” was what he’d said to me), golden highlights from the sunshine. I carefully move some curls away and give him a small kiss on the side of his face. 

His eyes flutter open, and I’m greeted with my favourite shade of blue. He looks up at me and just smiles. 

“Hey,” I whisper, giving him another kiss on his lips. 

“You look like a rock song.” He mumbles. 

I chuckle and raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry… A rock song?”

Simon opens his eyes wider and balances himself on his elbows. He reaches out, and pulls me into a slow, longing kiss. 

And it’s always so good. It’s sunshine, and cinnamon, and heaps of bacon for breakfast. It’s flowers in the garden, and a splash of cool water on an impossibly hot day. It’s fireworks, and golden afternoons, and the perfect thunderstorm, casting shows of lightning in the sky. 

He moves back and runs his fingers through my hair. 

“ _ I can see you, your brown skin shining in the sun. You’ve got your hair slicked back and your Wayfarers on, baby. _ ”

I laugh and push against him, taking his lips in mine. Simon wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me on top of him. 

He’s got one hand in my hair, and the other on my back and he’s kissing me like he did last year, full of hunger and wanting, and desperation. 

And I… I  _ want _ … I want him so bloody much, it’s killing me. 

“Baz…” he rasps out, lips swollen and eyes dilated. He’s eyeing me like I’m the last ice cream sundae, and he’s the spoon. I move down to his neck and breathlessly press my lips to his skin. The moan that he makes when I suck on his neck, is enough for me to feel a strong pull in my belly. Simon traces his fingers across my stomach and I shudder. 

“Simon…” I purr softly into his neck. 

My eyes meet his, and a devilish grin slowly spreads across his face before he grabs my shoulders and flips us over. He immediately pins my hands above my head and begins peppering small kisses across the bottom of my jaw and down my neck. I squirm a little to free my wrists, but he’s got a firm grip on me. He looks down and smirks at me. 

“And then you call  _ me _ the evil one…” I gasp at him. 

“Have to make you want it, don’t I?”

Fuck… I do… I want  _ this _ … I want him… He awakens everything inside of me that I thought had died long ago.

He’d been doing that to me all summer. Whenever I’d be overthinking about having to leave him or trying to put distance between us, he’d find a way to grab my hand and flash me one of his sun-kissed  _ smiles _ … 

It’d be over for me then… I’d forget everything and just melt into him.

Just like now. 

Simon Snow… you have me completely in your grasp, and I am all the more happier for it. 

Now here, on the beach, Simon is again working his magic on me and making me forget about everything. 

We had never really gotten this far with each other before, always stopping just shy of pushing things further, but I want this… I want him.  _ All _ of him, in every single possible way. I want to know all the curves and folds of Simon’s body better than I know my own. I want to become completely overcome with him. 

I want to show Simon just how much I love everything about him from the curls on top of his head, to the toes on his feet. If these are the final moments we get to have together, I want them to be moments that will forever be ingrained in our memories. 

His mouth moves agonizingly slowly down my chest. He grazes one of my nipples with his lips. I can’t hold back the shiver and the content sigh that comes out of my mouth. Simon licks his lips ever so slowly, and presses them firmly on my nipple and gives it a little suck. 

“Si- _ HI- _ mon! P-p-please… S-Si…”

I wriggle a little more, and tug at him, but he’s such a little shit when he knows he’s getting to me, that he doesn’t let up. Every time he presses his lips against my skin, it feels like a million and one fireworks are going off simultaneously. I don’t know how much more of this I can take before I go completely stupid. He knows how to break down every wall I’ve placed up, with a sweet smile and a goofy look in his eye.

My imbecilic dolt... 

My breath hitches as he makes a pass at my other nipple. This time, his teeth graze the bud. I involuntarily cry out and my knee jerks up against my will. 

“Ow! Jesus…  _ fuck _ ! Baz!” Simon rolls off of me, and clutches his stomach. I grimace and look over to him. He’s doubled over in the sand, curled up. 

Mood officially killed… Murdered… It didn’t stand a chance in hell. 

Simon shifts on his back and it sounds like he’s crying, and I feel like absolute shit. Of course I had to go and do something asinine, like knee my boyfriend in the stomach because I am so touch starved that a simple gesture causes me to become completely unhinged. 

“Simon! I am so sorry!” As I look him over, it becomes very apparent that he’s not crying… but… laughing?

He’s laughing! 

I frown and give him a light punch on his shoulder. 

“Are you serious? What could be so funny, Snow!? I thought I’d hurt you!”

Simon grabs my arm, slowly pulling me down next to him. He kisses the crooked part of my nose. It’s painfully soft (and forgivable… always). 

“I wish I knew you were  _ that _ excited, love…” He whispers to me. Shivers crawl up my back and I press myself closer to him. “I would have come better prepared…” 

My eyes shoot up at him and he nods at me. 

“T-the house is empty.” (My family has been staying in the forest cottage over the summer). 

Simon’s tongue passes over his lips and he leans over and kisses me softly again. 

“I don’t know about you… but I’m not too keen on getting sand in all my crevices. Why don’t we take this back to yours, yeah?”

Now that he’s mentioned it, I am all too aware of sand in my hair, on my back… in my trunks… The beach is romantic,  _ hypothetically _ , but it isn’t much fun when you consider the sand. 

“I think that’s an inspired idea.” 

Simon jumps to his feet and pulls me up as well. His eyes wander a little and he gives me a lopsided grin at the bulge in my swim shorts. I roll my eyes. 

“Oh please! Don’t act so surprised!”

“I was just appreciating the view…”

“You’re an idiot, Snow.”

“You called me Simon before.”

I roll my eyes, “I’ve been calling you Simon all summer.”

He shrugs, “Yeah, and I like it. Come on!”

He gathers our blanket and we make our way to the house.

We barely cross the threshold, when Simon pushes me up against the wall and meets my lips with his. He brushes some of my hair from my face, holding me gently in the palm of his hand. I give him a kiss and just linger there. 

“Baz…” He whispers. 

“Hmmm?”

“I don’t want to wait anymore…”

I smile and take his bottom lip between my teeth and nibble on it for a few seconds. I can feel him shivering as small goosebumps rise on his arms. 

“Then don’t…” I say, and take him by his hand, and lead him into my bedroom. 

I wash up quickly in the ensuite bathroom, while Simon cleans up in the guest bathroom. I finish pretty quickly, and pace about my bedroom, nervously fixing the bed, and triple checking to make sure I have everything I might need (condoms, lube…). I throw on a pair of joggers and sit on the bed, trying to make myself comfortable. There are a million and one things going on through my head as I wait. 

Will I be alright?

Will we enjoy ourselves?

Will Simon still want me once this is done?

Will I want to stay in his arms forever… and never leave?

Will it hurt (I mean… I’m pretty sure it will…)?

This is it… This is our time… our moment. I’ve never been with another person like this before… I’ve never wanted to be with another person like this. Not before Simon. 

A knock comes through the door. Simon opens it and slowly steps in. He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist, and another draped over his shoulders. He stands at the foot of my bed and I just stare at him. 

His curls are wet, and a few hang in ringlets over the top of his forehead. I take in his broad, strong shoulders, and his thick arms. He’s filled out over the summer, working with his uncle in construction, and it shows in the definition of his chest. He still has some pudge in his stomach, but I love that. I love feeling Simon’s soft parts. 

I notice that he’s fiddling a little with the towel wrapped around his waist. His hands look a little too busy… too shaky. 

I kneel in front of him and take his hands in mine, placing small kisses on the bumps of his knuckles. He’s not looking at me, and I think he’s scared to face me. 

“We don’t have to do this, if you’re uncomfortable…” I whisper to him.

I mean it… As much as I want this to happen, and this may be the only time it happens, I want Simon to be sure of everything. 

He looks back at me and smiles. 

“No… I want to, Baz… Do you?”

“Yes… I do… But only if you want to.”

“I mean… I’m nervous… Th-this is insane, yeah?”

I snort out a laugh… Insane is one way of putting it. 

“If it helps… I’m nervous too.”

“D-do you want to? You sure?”

I kiss him in the palm of his hand. 

“I’m sure, Simon… I’ve never been more sure of anything before.”

He’s quiet for a moment, squeezing my hand, and running his thumb over my knuckles. I wonder where his confidence at the beach went. I suppose that, like me, now that we’re here, in my room, pretty much naked, it’s all hitting him at once. 

“I want to, Baz… I want this.”

He takes my hand and places it on the part of the towel tucked in. My thumb slides inside and rubs Simon’s skin up and down. I won’t pull the towel off until he says it’s ok. My other hand reaches up to his shoulder and draws him closer. He lets me kiss him and even pushes back against me. My thumb slips out of the towel and instead moves up and down his waist. Simon sighs happily and climbs onto the bed. He pushes me down against the mattress. I groan a little, as my legs are stuck in an uncomfortable position, pinned beneath me. 

Simon laughs and moves off, so I can get comfortable. 

He takes my hand again and places it on the towel. He gives me a small nod, and I slowly unravel it. My eyes stay on his, waiting for the moment, he lets me look down. When a shy smile appears on his already blushing face, I look down. 

He’s gorgeous… Every inch of him is beautiful. He curves a little towards the top, and a few veins encircle him, but he’s so beautiful. I bend down and give it a little kiss on the tip, to Simon’s amusement. 

“Tender fucking arsehole,” he mutters. 

“You’re beautiful, Simon…”

He’s kneeling over me on all fours. His nose is hovering inches away from mine, and I can feel my heart pumping louder and faster. His hand reaches inside my joggers where he takes a strong hold of me. He moves closer and his hand tightens around my cock, ready to pull… when I remember. 

“Fuck! Simon! Wait!”

He immediately lets go of me and pulls back, concern plastered on his face. 

“What’s wrong? You wanna stop? Did anything hurt?” He’s a little flustered and it’s so charming, I almost let it go on for too long. 

“No, you berk… lube. Otherwise, we’ll both be in for some pain.”

He slaps his hand to his face, embarrassed that he forgot. And I have to laugh that our magical evening is turning to be one awkward encounter after another. 

After grabbing the bottle of lube, Simon teases the waistband of my joggers. An impish grin appears on his face as he tugs at it. I raise an eyebrow and nod at him. He tosses the bottle onto the bed before slowly pulling my joggers off. I don’t notice my breath speeding up, but my heart certainly feels like it’s going to explode any minute now. 

“Fuck… Baz…” He breathes out.

I feel a kiss on my belly button and I shudder. He follows the patch of hair leading down to my (now erect) shaft. Once he gets to it he takes me in his mouth. I have to clamp a hand over my mouth, as a loud moan bursts out. 

Simon pins my hips down and drags his tongue over my frenulum. My hips buck forward against his grip, and Simon has to push down against me once more. His hands move towards my arse and he cups both cheeks, giving them a tight squeeze.

My cock pops out of his mouth and he places a small kiss on my tip. 

(Good to know I’m not the only tender arsehole.)

Simon stays still for a moment, hands still clutching my arse. I prop myself on my elbows and stare at him for a second, wondering what he’s thinking. 

“Something wrong?”

“I… I’m wondering how to do this… Without hurting you. Do I just…”

He tries to hitch my legs on his shoulders, and I don’t expect it, so I slip out of his grasp and tumble back on the bed. 

And Simon gets a small kick to his jaw. 

“Ow!  _ Jesus, Baz! _ No more beating up the boyfriend with your over-sensitivity! Deal!?”

I scramble up to a sitting position. “Next time, you try acrobatics in the bedroom, give me a warning! Christ! I didn’t know what you were trying to do!”

Simon straightens up and rubs at his jaw. “I dunno! I saw it somewhere and thought it might work….”

I’m about to ask where on Earth he could have seen something like that, but he turns away bashfully and rubs the back of his neck. His face has turned a brilliant shade of red…

God help me… I rub my eyes, trying to come up with a way to not hurt his feelings. 

“Simon… I don’t think we’re quite ready to do what they do in pornography just yet…”

He throws himself backwards onto the bed and groans, hands covering his eyes in shame. I smile tenderly at him. He was just trying to make this a special moment, and really we’re both unsure of what we’re doing… Mistakes will be made. Misunderstandings will happen. 

For me, I’d really like to not waste any time on bitterness and misgivings. I just want to give my everything to him… 

So I crawl over to him and climb over him. I carefully pull his hands from his eyes and kiss the tips of each of his fingertips. He smiles and brushes his thumb across my mouth. 

“Let’s just be together. Ok? We’ll take this slow, nothing fancy… Just you and me and whatever feels good.”

He nods and reaches up towards me, bringing me down to him. He kisses me deeply, his tongue pushing my teeth apart and flicking the roof of my mouth. I sigh and grind my body against him. 

I grab the neglected bottle of lube and squirt a generous amount onto my palm. 

“Are you ready?” I ask him. 

Simon grunts his response and writhes against my hips. I smile and slowly lower my hand towards him. 

I lean over him again, taking his lips in mine, and at the same time, giving him a nice slow pull. 

A low guttural sound comes out of Simon’s mouth, which only makes me push harder against him. He hitches his legs around my hip and keeps me pinned against him. 

I open my hand a little more and take my own cock in as well, pumping them both together. 

And as we grind and writhe, and pull and kiss, I realize that  _ this _ is what it was all coming down to. Simon and I, together. Figuring it out. 

Simon and I, completing the circuit. 

Seeing the stars. 

Exploding onto and within each other. 

Going nova.

Simon and I...

Loving and kissing, and making promises and declarations of love and passion. 

And how we will never let this moment go. 

Simon and I…

Simon and I…

Simon and I…


	7. First Goodbye - Age 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my amazing Betas, [Waterwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterwings) , [TBazzSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri) , and [Giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) . 
> 
> I love you guys so flipping much!

**_SIMON_ **

He’s leaving today.

In exactly 3 hours, and 35 minutes. 

(I might have been counting down since he told me about a week ago.)

(After I tried to pick several fights with him.)

(And avoided him for a day or two.)

He’s here now, with me, snuggled up under my arm and gripping my chest for dear life. His leg is hitched around one of mine. We’d fallen asleep like this last night, after shagging away any bad feelings about him leaving (we’d gotten significantly better… at the shagging, I mean) (less awkward…). We’re sticky, and sweaty, and completely starkers, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want to let go of him… of  _ this _ . 

I squeeze him a little tighter and pull him closer to me. Baz hums softly and nestles even further under my chin. His hair is tickling my nose, but I don’t care. 

I hold on to every bit of this. His body, his scent, his cold feet stealing warmth from me. 

I kiss the top of his head and just breathe him in. The smell of his posh hair products linger under the musk of sweat. 

“You do know that smelling a person while they sleep is rather creepy?” 

His eyes are still closed, but Baz is doing his best to hide a smirk. I laugh and just hold him tighter. 

“It’s not my fault you smell so good…”

He finally opens his eyes and looks up at me. My breath hitches a little as I take a look at him. He never fails to leave me shaken with how fucking  _ perfect _ he is. Even groggy and sleepy, with crusty eyes and morning breath, Baz is still so bloody beautiful. 

“I suppose there’s no harm in it. So long as no one catches you sniffing my bedsheets when I’m gone…”

And there it is… I had almost allowed myself to forget he was leaving. My stomach drops to my feet.

Damn it… I hate that I’m so angry about this. I hate that there’s a clutching, tight feeling in my chest that won’t let go of me. 

I sit up on the bed and pull my knees up close. 

Baz lifts himself up onto his elbows and reaches out for me. I want to be angry at him for leaving, but I can’t. 

We don’t have much more time together (2 hours and 45 minutes), and I don’t want to waste it being cross with him. 

Baz slinks his fingers through mine and I let him. I bring his hand to my lips and give him a little kiss. 

“It sucks that you have to go…” I whisper into his hand. 

“I know… I don’t… want to leave you.” 

When I turn to him, I see something in his eyes. It’s small, but it’s there. 

It’s hesitation. 

A second thought.

A maybe.

And a possibility to make the biggest mistake of his life. 

“No…” I tell him. 

“No, what? You don’t know what I’m thinking.” He says.

I roll my eyes. “I’ve known what you were thinking since we were eleven! You are not rejecting your spot in school, Baz! I won’t allow it!”

He pouts, and fuck, I wanna kiss him so badly when he does that. 

_ Focus, Simon… _

“Last I checked, I was free to do what I wanted. I don’t have to go… I can take a year off…”

“And do what? Faff about here? Baz… you  _ have  _ to go to London.”

He looks away from me, and it’s heartbreaking to see him like this. I want him to stay here, more than anything. I want to wake up everyday with him in my arms, and kiss him like nothing else matters. 

I want to lie on the beach, holding him close, knowing he’s with me. 

But Baz is amazing. He’s always been amazing. He’s smart and funny, and sharp as a blade. He has a chance to make a really big impact, just like his mother before him. I won’t let him give that up. 

He belongs out there, conquering the world. 

My place is here, in the town I grew up in, taking care of my uncle and his business. 

I tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“Baz…”

He doesn’t answer, just shakes his head. He knows I’m right (as stubborn as he is). 

I move closer to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, kissing the side of his face. He sighs and leans back against me. 

“It might not be forever…” I whisper into his ear. 

“What if it is?”

I card my fingers through his hair, twirling it round and round. I think about that for a moment.

_ What if this is it? _

We told each other that we’d still text and try to meet up whenever we could. But what if we grow apart? What if the space and distance and time apart gets to be too much for us to handle? 

What if we decide to leave the memory of these years behind?

“We’ll always have  _ this _ . These moments right now. Waking up in each other's arms, going to bed together. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could ever forget this.”

Baz hums softly and nods. He leans back against me and I just hold him. 

We stay like that for a few more minutes, Baz dragging his fingers across my legs, and me kissing him lightly on his neck and shoulders. 

I nip at him a few times and he lightly scratches me, but we don’t get any more friskier than that… 

Eventually, one of us makes the mistake and looks at the time, and we realize that we should shower and get dressed… Then we lazily untangle ourselves from each other, and carry on with our morning.

* * *

I’m sitting on the bed, playing with my hoodie string, waiting for Baz to come out of the bathroom. I check my mobile for any messages from Penny or our other friends, trying not to think about how much time we have left. 

(20 minutes)

I stare at his bags. He packed up everything last night, leaving behind a change of clothes and very few toiletries. 

This is it… I have no choice but to face it now. He’s bound to come out of the bathroom any second, and we’ll hug and kiss and try to hold onto whatever time we have left together, before his dad shows up to drive him to the train station. 

Do I regret this? Letting Baz into my heart, only for him to pack and leave me? Do I regret holding him in the water, and carrying him onto shore where we kissed and kissed all night long?

Do I regret the endless phone calls and text messages and the surprise visits, and the nights spent staring at the stars, thinking and talking about our futures?

Do I regret any of it?

Moving naked with him, getting over our discomfort and awkwardness in order to find a way to have sex that worked for both of us? Do I regret holding him close to my chest as we came together, over and over, and over? 

Do I regret falling asleep in his arms everyday this past month, and him waking up in mine?

I don’t have to question it any further when Baz walks out of the bathroom. He’s standing there, his hair framing his face in still-wet waves.. He’s wearing a light pink button down shirt with purple lilacs on it, as well as some (very well fitted) black jeans. 

For a moment in time, he was mine… 

How could I ever regret any of it?

Baz approaches me and grabs my hands. 

One moment. Our moment. No regrets. 

He kisses each and every one of my fingertips and wraps my arms around his neck. He leans his head against mine and places his hands on my waist. 

One moment. Our moment. No regrets. 

He sways a little. There isn’t any music, but I go along with it. Anything to keep him close to me. He shakes a little in my arms, and I hold him closer. 

One moment. Out moment. No regrets. 

I hear a small ping from his pocket, and I instinctively hold him tighter. It’s too soon. The time can’t be up. Surely I have more time with him.

Baz holds my face tenderly between his hands and places a kiss on both my eyelids, before kissing my lips. 

One moment. Our moment. No regrets. 

I hold onto him for as long as I possibly can, but I know that Baz’s father is not a patient man. He’ll come knocking on the door soon enough. I run my fingers through his hair one last time…

“It’s not forever, ok?”

“No… It’s not.”

“I’ll try to come back to visit…”

“We can text and call… It’ll be like you never left…”

“Yes… Like I never left.”

One moment. Our moment. No regrets. 

I take him by the hand and lead him outside. His step-mum is there with his father, and she gives him a big hug, while his father loads Baz’s bags into the trunk. His step-mum gives me a sad smile as she walks back to the car. 

This is it… The final moment is here. 

We’re still holding hands. We’re not ready to let go yet…

And it’s in this precise moment, that I realize…

Fuck… I love him. 

_ I love him.  _

Baz wipes something from my face (fuck… I’m  _ crying _ ). 

I love him.

He leans over and kisses me once more. 

And I love him. 

And this is our one last moment. 

And I want to tell him. 

(I  _ should _ tell him.) 

But we’ve never been able to tell each other that before. And now is not the time. Not while he’s leaving for his new life in London. 

So I kiss him, deeply, passionately, so that he’ll never forget this.

And I let go of him and back away, so that I don’t pick him up over my shoulder and carry him far from here. 

I let my tears roll down my face as he gets into his parents’ car and stares at me. I keep my eyes locked on him, hoping to convey, in this last second, how much I love him. 

As I watch the car pull out from the driveway, I keep repeating the phrase in my head. Like a prayer keeping me grounded to Earth. 

One moment, our moment, no regrets. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops... Sorry?
> 
> Don't worry... Final chapter will be posted tomorrow morning. You won't have to wait too long. 😉


	8. First Reunion - Age 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter you guys!!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been reading this fic and pouring love in the comments. I hope you guys have a happy New Year. 
> 
> Bye 2020 and good flipping riddance. 
> 
> Thanks to my amazing Betas, [Waterwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterwings) , [TBazzSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri) , and [Giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) . 
> 
> I love you guys so flipping much!

**_BAZ_ **

I know that head of hair. 

Better yet, I know of only one person with a thick messy mop of curly brown hair on her head, who would be frantically waving at me from across the street. 

I haven’t seen her in over five years, but she hasn’t changed a bit. 

I smile and wave back at Penelope Bunce. 

Her grin widens and she jumps up and down in the utmost glee. I worry that she’ll run into oncoming traffic, but Penelope manages to look both ways before crossing. She breaks into a sprint, and I barely have enough time to brace myself before she crashes into me. 

“BASIL!” She envelops me in a tight hug and I cannot help but laugh as I wrap my arms around her. I lift her off the ground and she screams in happiness. 

“Careful Bunce! Don’t knock me over!”

“Oh shut it! You know you missed me!”

Yes… I missed her. She was just one of the many people I missed from St. Ives.

It hasn't been easy for me to go back and visit that place. There are too many memories there, threatening to haunt me, and prevent me from moving on and loving my life. 

Living my life without _him._

I went to London. Got settled into my flat. Slowly brought more and more of myself inside until it felt like a place that was truly  _ mine. _

I started University, and pushed myself for five grueling years of academic papers and late night research projects and proposals.

It was all worth it. I am currently top of my class, and looking into postgraduate studies, either still in the UK or even abroad.

And here is Penelope Bunce, rushing into me and forcing me to think about the one person I’ve tried to eliminate from my thoughts all those years ago. 

The one person I never could permanently remove from my mind nor my heart. Who had so imprinted himself on me that no matter how I tried to date, or fuck, or wank him away, he stayed right there. Etched onto the fabric of my being. 

“Basil… It’s so good to see you.” 

She pulls apart from our hug and playfully punches my shoulder. 

“Ow! Always a pleasure, Bunce! What on Earth are you doing all the way over here in London?”

Penny gives me a crooked smile and a quirk of one of her eyebrows (a taste of my own medicine, surely). 

“You really have been out of the loop! Haven’t you spoken to your cousin or his boyfriend at all?!”

Of course  _ Dev _ knows what’s been happening with everyone in St. Ives. Niall followed him right to University, where they began dating pretty much as soon as they became roommates. I should say I didn’t see it coming, but Dev and Niall got exceptionally close when Dev started coming around to St. Ives all those years ago, it was only a matter of time before they got their heads out of their arses. 

I see them pretty often, meeting up at my flat or theirs to watch some EPL, or rugby matches. We also all play in a friendly football league. Each time we meet, they try to update me on what’s been going on back in the town, but I shut down conversation as soon as it happens. 

I have no desire to open that can of worms anytime soon.

“I think you of all people should understand why I’d like to know as little about St. Ives as I possibly can.”

Penny gives me a small shove, “Oh don’t be like that, Basil! That was what… five years ago? And besides, I think a lot has changed since then, don’t you think?”

I nudge her right back. She’s right… a lot has changed in the last five years. Living on my own in London has made me really think about what I want out of life. The partners I’ve dated (some a lot longer than others) each taught me something different. 

Penny runs her hand over my jawline. “You for one, have changed. I mean, a beard, Basil?”

I blush and timidly scratch at the neatly kept shadow. I’d been testing it out, seeing if I like it. Honestly, it’s a hassle for me to maintain and gets rather itchy. I’m thinking I might shave it off. 

Maybe… In a bit. 

“You still haven’t answered me. What are you doing in London?”

“Are you doing anything at the moment?”

“That depends on what you had in mind…”

“I was heading to grab a cuppa at The Darling Café. Would you like to join me?”

I had wanted to get home and work on my PhD applications. I also have an article that I need to review for a colleague of mine. I should go home. I know nothing good can come from catching up with Penelope Bunce. I have a feeling it’ll only cause old wounds to open up.

But I have missed her. Her friendship did mean a great deal to me. I’d be lying to myself if I said it didn’t. So, I smile and hold out my arm to her. She happily grabs it and leads me down the road. 

I had heard about The Darling Café. It opened maybe a couple of months ago. I had seen it a few times, but never went inside. It’s rather charming, and reminds me a lot of the café that Ebb used to own back on St. Ives (where  _ he _ used to work). Penelope leads me to a cozy little table and sits us down. Someone comes by to take our orders, and seems very comfortable with Penelope (addressing her by her first name and all). 

“You must come here quite often, Bunce. Everyone seems to know you by name.”

She hides her slight blush by sipping on some water. “It’s honestly my favourite café. It’s got all the charm and essence of the cafes back home.”

I take a sip of my water and fiddle with one of the napkins. My mind is filled to the brim of questions to ask Penny, and none of them are about her. My mind reverts back to one person and one person alone. 

“So, tell me Bunce… Have you been in London long?”

“Not at all… Maybe a year?”

I quirk an eyebrow, and try not to look too offended that she hadn’t made an effort to get in contact with me in that time. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I didn’t exactly make an effort to get into contact with her either. 

After things faded with  _ him _ … I didn’t bother with anyone else from that town. It was too painful to be reminded of what I lost. 

“I ought to be offended that it took a chance meeting in order to see you, considering you’ve been here so long.”

“Basil… I wanted to reach out, I did. But it’s been, what, five years?”

“Give or take.”

“And you didn’t exactly reach out to me either, you know!”

I frown at her, “Can you really blame me, Bunce?”

She sighs, “No… I can’t…”

We sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes until a barista brings us our drinks. She also places a small plate of tiny scones in between us. The warm scent makes its way to me and my stomach sinks to the floor. 

_ Sour cherry… His favourite.  _

I gingerly pick one up and inspect it like it’s made of poison (it may as well be). It’s miniscule, about a quarter of the size of a regular scone. There are a couple of cherries peeping out. It’s so soft, like a warm inviting pillow. 

_ He did always say the softer the scones were, the better they taste... _

“I don’t recall you ordering these.”

“It’s a café specialty. They put a small plate for customers who sit down. I’ve never had a scone as soft or buttery before. They seriously taste just like the ones back home.”

My heart aches… This isn’t doing anything to distract myself from thinking about…

Bronze curls, and blue eyes, and a Pollack-painting of freckles and moles. 

I drop the scone on my plate and roughly shake my head. 

Bunce keeps her eyes trained on me. I give her a small smile to not worry her. I need to shake off these lingering thoughts. I have not spoken to (or heard from) him in five years. As far as I know, he’s probably in a loving relationship or married. 

He probably has no time to think of the boy who loved him and who would cross every line for him. 

And why would he?

We were enemies longer than we were lovers… And we’ve been strangers even longer still. 

No… best to leave his ghost in the past, where it can’t hurt me.

“So, Basil! Are you seeing anyone?”

I nearly choke on the earl grey latte I’m drinking. Leave it to Penelope Bunce to find a way to get to the pressing questions without tact or delay. 

“I hardly think my love life is of any interest to you, Bunce.”

“Who said I was interested?”

“You literally just asked me if I was single…”

“Polite conversation. Nothing more.”

I squint my eyes at her. She stares back at me, sipping her tea innocently. I’m not quite sure I believe her, but I also decide that I don’t really care… 

I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? If I’m right and  _ he’s _ happily living in St. Ives with a lovely spouse, then it doesn’t matter what Penelope Bunce knows of my love life. 

“Fine… I  _ was _ seeing someone…”

“Was?”

“Yes, Bunce… Was. As in past tense.”

François Lambert was charming, funny, and so bloody attractive. He was also a visiting professor in the literature department who was all too glad to go toe to toe with me for any discussion from the correct usage of 16th Century Shakespearean English phrases, to the heavy undertones of Milton’s  _ Paradise Lost _ . 

He entranced me, and for several months we had a secret affair (fraternizing with colleagues was frowned upon), while I ground over my research proposal. 

It ended a few weeks ago with a surprise visit and a stranger in his bed. 

He nearly cost me everything, my job, my reputation, my future prospects. But thankfully, he returned to whatever vermin infested hole he climbed out of. 

Good riddance. 

I don’t feel like divulging all of this to Bunce at the moment, so I turn my attention to her. 

“What about you, Bunce? Anyone in your life?”

“As a matter of fact, yes… He-”

Penelope’s cut off by a loud pinging from her mobile. I stare at her as she quickly checks her messages, types out a response and shoves her mobile back into her purse. Probably her partner or a friend. 

Still… I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this… 

“What exactly are you doing in London, Penelope?”

“I moved here… with a friend… He, um… owns this café, actually.”

“ _ Which friend?” _

Penelope suddenly looks exceedingly uncomfortable as she raises her hand and waves at someone behind me. 

My heart nearly stops as I come to the realization of what this was. 

A set up… 

I shift in my seat to look at the person heading towards us, but I already know who it is. 

Who else would it be?

A friend that Penelope Bunce would move across the country for, who happens to own a café almost  _ exactly _ like the café back in St. Ives. 

A café with a specialty for  _ sour cherry scones. _

There is only one person who fits the bill.

Sure enough, there he is. 

He’s broader now, more filled out, with a little pudge around his stomach. His hair has gotten a little longer, but it still hangs in thick curly ringlets around his face. 

He’s older, but still so beautiful. 

_ Simon.  _

**_SIMON_ **

Penny had messaged me a while ago. 

Well… she had sent her  _ first _ message a while ago. She hadn’t stopped sending me messages until I finally wrote back. 

  
  


**_Penny! :D (13:24):_ **

_ He’s here! Simon! He’s here! I see him now! _

**_Penny! :D (13:30):_ **

_ Bringing him to the café. You HAVE to get here as soon as possible! _

**_Penny! :D (13:35):_ **

_ I’m bloody serious, Simon Snow! You have not stopped talking ABOUT him since you stopped talking TO him! _

_ I swear, Simon, if you let him walk away, I will murder you myself! _

**_Simon Snow Salisbury (13:46):_ **

_ I was in a meeting with a supplier. I’m almost there. _

**_Penny! :D (13:50):_ **

_ By the way, not that it matters or anything like that… But, he’s single.  _

  
  


I wait a few minutes before walking inside. What do I even say to him? I mean, I know I should probably start with an apology 

(“Hey Baz… sorry for being a complete arsehole and ghosting you! I’m ok now! Fucked off around the Isles for five years before realizing that no one will ever be like you… No one  _ is _ like you… So what do you say we start over, yeah?”)

Yeah…  _ right _ . I can practically feel his angry scowl from here, and I haven’t even gone inside yet. 

I’d deserve it too. I made a promise to him five years ago and nearly immediately broke it. I told him, back home, that we’d find a way to make the distance work, and for a few months it did.

Then Uncle Oliver died, and I just couldn’t deal. 

To say I was in a bad way would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

I was a fucking mess… 

When Uncle Oliver died from a work accident, it was sudden, unexpected, and tore a fucking hole in my heart. 

I wasn’t myself. 

I remember the endless texts from Baz that went unanswered. The phone calls that I ignored. I think he was at the funeral, but I refused to speak to anyone that day, and it was all just a blur for me. 

It wasn’t his fault, or anything he did. In fact, I didn’t realize at the time, but I was killing myself slowly, by pushing him away… 

Eventually, I changed my number, and hoped he would take the hint then. 

(Not my proudest moment…)

I just… I couldn’t stand to have him looking at me when my whole life was crashing around me. It didn’t feel right to drag him into my misery, especially when he was just starting his own life. I was now expected to take over for my uncle, and I couldn’t find the strength in me to carry on.

I couldn’t find the strength to  _ let _ Baz help me, or trust that he’d stick around.

I don’t remember much from the first year after Uncle Oliver died. I remember having to close down his business, dealing with his estates, watching Coach Mac leave the town to move in with his sister in Cardiff. 

And drinking… I did a lot of drinking. 

And I thought of Baz, every. Single. Day. 

I don’t know what snapped me out of my slump. I think it might have been Penelope’s yelling and knocking sense into my head that did it for me. Or maybe it was Ebb crying during one of my visits to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. 

Maybe it was the thought of never seeing Baz again that did it for me. 

Whatever it was, I spent the next several years getting clean, and travelling the Isles. Once I got back, I knew what it was I wanted out of life. 

I wanted to settle down, and own a quiet little café, just like the one that Ebb owned. When I thought about my future, I saw myself inside the café, baking sour cherry scones, and serving coffee and tea. 

I pictured a pair of long arms around my waist, and a cold nose pressed against my neck. 

I saw grey eyes, black hair, and a boy I never stopped loving, even though my brain told me that he would never want someone as broken and messy as me. 

He was in London, and I was in St. Ives. 

So I left. 

I didn’t have to think much about it. There was nothing holding me back, and everything pulling me forward. I used the money from Uncle Oliver’s inheritance and bought a small building. Penny moved to London with me, and we settled into the flat right above the café. 

(I might have even drawn inspiration from him when I named the café…) (He used to love it when I called him “Darling”.) (And “little darling” is a lyric from Here Comes the Sun… his mother’s favourite song.)

I spent the next year, making a home for myself in this little neighbourhood. I spent endless nights caked in flour and smelling of coffee grounds, trying to get the café up and running. I spent meeting after meeting, trying to perfect every little detail, so that it reflected my vision. I remember the sleepless nights, wondering if the café would ever pick up and worrying that I did it all for nothing. That I’d wind up a failure and be forced to go back to St. Ives, with nothing to show for it. 

And the first few months were hard. It took a while before people started noticing the little café, and even longer before we started to make a decent amount of business. 

It wasn’t easy, but no one ever said that life was easy. 

A year later, and I think I’ve got a good life here now. I’m making a home here, in London. I’ve got Penny (who’s studying in Uni), I’ve got a pretty loyal staff, and plenty of regular customers. There are days when the darkness will start to creep in and I’ll be tempted to take another drink. 

But I’m lucky that I’ve got a good therapist, an even better sponsor, and my Alcoholics Anonymous meetings to keep me from breaking down again. 

I’m taking a chance on this, and so far, it’s been amazing. 

Despite all of this, I still think about Baz. 

All the time. 

I’m happier now, in a much better place, but I’ve been so scared to reach out to him. I’ve taken to hoping he’d pop into the café, my heart stopping every time I saw a dark-haired bloke walking inside. 

Penny kept trying to push me to write to him. She’s kept in touch with Dev and Niall, and they’ve told her that he’s still in London (Niall even gave her Baz’s number). 

I still never wrote to him. I  _ did _ , however, look him up on social media (which did me a lot more harm than good). I scrolled through his posts, looking at the photos of him with Dev and Niall, with people I assumed were his colleagues and friends.

And…  _ others _ . 

Every so often, I’d come across a photo with other handsome blokes. Blokes who’d hug him, and play with his hair, and a few who would kiss him. 

They drove me fucking mad. 

Thinking that Baz was here, in the same city as me, and that someone else was holding him and kissing him… Yeah Penny had to ban me from cyber-stalking Baz after I nearly broke my phone.

I think I was most angry at myself for letting him go, and expecting that he’d just stick around, waiting for me. Of course Baz would find someone to be with. It was what he deserved. 

If I never got to see him again, I would have to be alright with that. I’ve got my own life here, and I’m happy with it. I would love to have Baz here with me, but if he’s happy with his own life, then that’s all I can really hope for. 

At least, until Penny messaged me today, and told me he was here, in my café. 

I nearly stumbled on the sidewalk several times in my hurry to get to the café, my heart pounding, and my feet shaking. 

But I’m here now, and I see them from the front of the place. Penny’s waving at me, but I’m only looking at the person sitting in front of her. 

He turns to look at me and my heart stops. 

The social media photos really do not do him justice. 

He’s even more handsome now than he ever was; with a strong, sharp face, a shadow beard that honestly makes him look like a bloody supermodel, and long black hair (which is plaited messily and hanging over his shoulder). 

He’s wearing a light blue shirt with white roses on it (florals were always his favourites). As I approach them, he stands up and I notice the dark grey jeans he’s wearing (jeans that are perfect on him). 

“Snow,” he says.

“Baz,” I say. 

“Well! Look at the time. Shepard’s expecting me!” Penny gets up from her seat. If looks could kill, well Baz would be setting Penny on fire right about now with the glare he’s giving her. 

“And you lot used to accuse  _ me _ of plotting!”

“To be fair, Basil, no one is stopping you from leaving. And honestly, I won’t blame you if you do.” Penny grabs his arm, almost tenderly. “I hope you can forgive me for this. But I do really need to go.” 

Baz doesn’t answer, but he does nod at her. Penny smiles and takes her leave. She gives me a reassuring pat on the back as she walks out the door. 

Suddenly it’s just us again. 

Me and Baz. 

He turns away and starts heading towards the door. 

I don’t think when I grab his arm and pull him back. 

All I’m thinking about is how I can’t let him leave… Not just yet. 

“Baz! Wait… please…”

Please… don’t leave. 

  
  


**_BAZ_ **

I should have gone home. 

I bloody well knew that Penelope “sticks her fucking nose in everyone’s business” Bunce had something up her sleeve! 

I should have made an excuse and just gone home. 

No, what I should have done is gotten up from my seat, the moment I saw Simon Snow approach us. 

But, I am the perpetrator of my own undoing, and just seeing him left me frozen in my seat. I frankly don’t even remember standing up. 

I do recall Penelope, slipping away  _ oh so casually _ . 

Bloody fucking perfect… 

Snow’s staring at me, his blue eyes imploring me to do  _ something _ .

Fuck! This is too much for me. 

I need to get out of here, and pretend this whole day never happened. 

I make my way to leave, when his hand grabs a hold of my arm. 

“Baz! Wait… Please…”

Christ, I can’t do this right now. It’s been five fucking long years. Five years that he’s plagued my every thought. 

I don’t yank my arms away from him though. I remain frozen in place, with Simon holding me there. 

As always. 

“Snow…” 

“No… Please, listen… ok… J-just listen! And if you don’t like it, you can leave!”

I look down at him, and he’s staring at me with his plain blue eyes. And because I’m weak, and a constant disappointment to myself, I sit back down and let him talk. 

“Baz… Nothing I can say can make what I did to you alright.”

He’s got that right. He can’t take away the missed calls and unanswered messages. He can’t give me back the nights I spent being unable to sleep because all I wanted was to hold him in my arms and for him to talk to me. He can’t fix the broken way I felt when I found out he changed his number and acted like what we had meant nothing to him. 

No… nothing he says can make the last five years go away. 

And yet… 

He’s here, and his head is hanging low, so that his curls tumble about. He’s fiddling with the tea mug that Penelope left behind. I notice his leg is bouncing uncontrollably. 

“And I can come up with excuse after excuse as to  _ why _ I pushed you away, but that doesn’t change a thing…”

It doesn’t, and I frankly don’t want any excuses. I know why he did what he did. I knew about his uncle (I was even at the funeral) (I’d even walked up to him to say something, but he stared right through me and walked away). 

It doesn’t change anything. 

_ And yet… _

“But Baz… Hurting you… Letting you go… was the biggest mistake of my life. I’d go to sleep at night wishing you were there with me.”

I turn my head from him and try to focus on the people outside. I can’t look at him when he’s professing his deepest regrets, especially since they involve me and the hole that’s been in my heart for five years. 

I can’t look at him, because it hurts too much, seeing him like this. It hurts too much because despite everything, I just want to take his hand and tell him everything’s alright. 

But I’m not ready to do that just yet. 

“Simon… Nothing can make the pain I felt go away. You shut me out, completely, and it broke my heart.”

“I know…” he barely speaks above a whisper. I turn to him, and he’s looking right at me. Blue eyes full of regret, and pain. 

I hate my stupid, soft heart, and how no matter what, it keeps leading me back to him. I hate that I want to kiss the pain off of his face. I clench my fist and bring it down loudly on the table. 

“I had to  _ work _ to move on from you. I couldn’t sit around pining and wishing and hoping you’d come to your senses and call me!”

“I  _ know.  _ Baz… I know! Just the fact that you’re still listening to what I’ve got to say is more than what I deserve from you.”

There are some tears welling up in my eyes, and I have to bite my lip to keep it from trembling.

Then he reaches over and grabs my hand, and when I look at him, there are pools forming in his eyes that break my own walls further down. 

“Baz, I know that there’s nothing I can say that’ll make you forgive me-”

His voice quivers at the end. I choke out a sad, miserable laugh, because I’m only now coming to the conclusion I really should have known a long time ago. 

“That’s what’s so mad about all of this, Simon! Not only do I forgive you, but you never left my mind!”

That I’d  _ still _ cross every line for him. 

**_SIMON_ **

I never left his mind. 

Baz is here… In London. 

Baz is here, in London, and single. 

Baz is here, in London, single, and I’ve remained on his mind. 

Just like he’s remained on mine. 

It’s now or never. 

I have one more thing I need to tell him, and it’s the one thing I’ve never managed to say to him, and if I don’t say it to him now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. 

I’ve spent far too long living in regret over the mistakes I’ve made, and replaying all the ways where I’ve done wrong by him. 

And yet…

Baz hasn’t left. Despite all the reasons that he has that would justify him leaving and never looking back, he hasn’t left yet.

I look a mess. My face is red and splotchy from the tears falling. My hair is a frizzy, tangled mess. I’m pretty sure I'm sweating everywhere. 

I don’t care. 

“Baz… My feelings for you… They never went away.” I grip his hand and run my thumb over the tops of his knuckles. He still feels so fucking cold. He’s having difficulty keeping his eyes on me… His beautiful stormy grey eyes, that I swear to God,  _ sparkle _ in the sunlight. 

“No matter how hard I tried to push your memory away, I still thought back to the beach in St. Ives, and your family’s beach house. I thought about your calloused hands, and your cold feet, and your fucking pouty lips.”

Baz laughs at me and it’s the sweetest sound that I’ve heard all day. 

I love him… I  _ love him _ . 

“The truth is… I love you. I always have… I-”

And then  _ he _ kisses  _ me _ . 

**_BAZ_ **

I love him.

I never stopped. 

I never once stopped loving him. 

And he’s here, in London. 

So I kiss him. 

I want to say that this changes nothing. That this doesn’t erase all of the hurt and all of the pain, and all of the confusion.

And in a way, it doesn’t… Not really. We won’t get those five years back, and we certainly can’t go back to where we left off at 18. We’re two different people now, we both know it. 

But still…

_ But still… _

We’ve been here, kissing in this cafe, completely oblivious to the world around us. I can’t find it in me to care very much about what those around us are thinking. Right now, it’s just Simon and I (just like it had always been). 

He shuffles onto the chair next to me and slides his hand on the back of my neck. And it’s still so good. He pushes against my teeth, sighing as I allow him to kiss me deeper. 

He’s who I want to be with when I go to sleep at night. He’s the person I want to wake up with him in the morning. 

I have no false hopes that this will be an easy ride for the two of us. There is a lot of hurt that needs to be healed and trust that needs to be regained between us. 

_ Can I move on with him? _

Will I regret it if I do?

Will I regret it more if I don’t?

We finally stop kissing, and I glance around us, ready to flip the bird to anyone with an angry scowl or a look of disgust. 

Thankfully, no one really seems to mind the fact that two blokes were making out in front of them. 

I turn back to Simon, and he’s all sunshine smiles, and twinkles in his eyes. He kisses a trail of tears that made its way down my face, before touching our foreheads together. 

Fuck, it’s so tender, and I want this… I want this…

“Baz…”

“Don’t you dare hurt me again…”

He places his hands on the sides of my face and shakes his head. 

“Never again…”

I place my hands over his and nod. 

“Ok…”

I’ll allow myself to start over with him. To have new first moments and first experiences. To love him and care for him and be vulnerable to him. 

Afterall, we’re worth trying to make this work out for a second time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Show some love to [Aristocratic-Otter](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/aristocratic-otter) and follow them! They are the sweetest person and deserve all the love!
> 
> If you like random reblogs and shenanigans, feel free to follow me as well [BazzyBelle](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/bazzybelle)


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